The Long Road to Love
by nonto94
Summary: After Gran's death, Sookie moves to Shreveport where she meets Eric, a handsome neighbor who is instantly attracted to her but can't seem to be in a relationship. Meanwhile, someone sinister is pursuing Sookie. AH/AU. My first fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Sookie's POV**

The drive to Shreveport was pretty uneventful. It seemed like it took twice as long as normal but I'm sure it was because I've been waiting for this for several months. Today is the day I leave Bon Temps for Shreveport. Today is the day I start my new life.

Four months ago yesterday, Gran passed away. Since my parents died when I was young, Gran was the one who raised me. She was my mother, my father, as well as my gran, and I owe everything I am to her. Gran was old when my brother Jason and I moved in with her, and older still when we graduated from high school ten years later. Jason, being his normal selfish self, couldn't wait to leave home and strike out on his own. I, on the other hand, didn't want to leave my gran. I passed on college and chose instead to work in our small town of Bon Temps. As Gran got older, I knew she couldn't care for herself as well as she could when she was younger and I didn't want to leave her. She cared for me when I couldn't care for myself and I intended to do the same for her. I did, too, until she died quietly in the night from heart failure.

With Gran gone I was devastated. I walked around in a daze for nearly a month after her death. That is, until I met Bill Compton. Bill had just moved into the house across the cemetery from Gran's when he came over to introduce himself. He asked me out several days later and we started to date pretty regularly. Though Bill was a mediocre boyfriend, one thing I can credit him for is helping me to realize that my life wasn't over just because Gran's was. Rather, my life was just beginning.

Lost in my thoughts, I gripped the pendant of Gran's necklace as a drove through Shreveport. Since Gran had died, I tried to wear her favorite necklace as much as possible. It made me feel like she was close and I didn't feel quite so alone. I could feel myself smiling widely as the apartment complex came into view. I had come by a week earlier to sign my lease and pick up my keys but hadn't yet had the chance to see the actual apartment I would be living in. Using the directions that the office had giving me, I made myself carefully navigate through the streets of the complex. I wasn't interested in running over any small children or pets on the first day of my new life. I continued driving until I came to a fairly secluded building in the back of the complex. I parked by the curb, got out of the car, and looked up at my new home.

The apartment building itself seems pretty typical. It is a two level walk up encased in brown wood and bricks. There is a main door on the first floor and I can see the staircase beyond. Trees surround the building and cast some shadows across the small parking area. From what I can see, it looks like the trees are thick in the back of the building as well. I know from speaking with the office that all of the buildings house one, two, and three bedroom apartments. I had opted for a one bedroom. As a part-time student and full-time waitress I wasn't going to have much money to spare, even with the rent from the Bon Temps house.

Suddenly overcome with excitement about finally, FINALLY being here, I let out a squeal while half bouncing, half running to the front door. Throwing open the door, I barely take note of the well-lit entrance hall before bounding up the stairs. I had all day to see the entrance hall, what I wanted to see now was my apartment! I force myself to slow down a bit as I arrive on the second floor. I don't want to run past it in all my excitement. Not quite sure which direction to go, I glance to the right and to the left. And then I see it. Second from the end of the hall to the right is my new home – apartment 204.

After fumbling for a moment to fit the key into the lock, I fling open the door and step into my apartment. Though there's not much to it, I'm in love. The door opens into the small living room with a wooden floor, light blue walls, and a couple of built in bookshelves. I can picture Gran's couch on the right wall and a small armchair under the window. Maybe I'll put a small table next to that chair for a lamp and get a second table to hold my laptop. That would be a great place to study. To my right is a small hall. The door at the end opens up to an old fashioned bathroom with a pedestal sink and a big ceramic tub. The tiles on the floor are white ceramic with a gray marble design and the walls are painted gray. I feel a bit of a thrill as I realize the purple shower curtain I purchased will look great in here. The doorway on the left side of the hall is the bedroom. The bedroom is basic, a pretty green on the walls and the same wood floor as the hall and living room. While in the bedroom, I take quick stock of the closet. It's not as big as I could have hoped for but more than adequate for my modest wardrobe. With only more last room to see, I charge out of the bedroom and across the hall to the kitchen. At first sight I know the kitchen is my favorite room of all. The floors are white ceramic and the built in cabinets have been painted a similar white. The walls are painted yellow and the counter-tops are a deep gray tile. I cross through the kitchen and into the small eating area which boast the focal point of the room – the sliding glass door. Peering through the door I can see a small wooden deck. I push open the door and step onto the desk. I breathe in deeply to fill my lungs with the fresh air while I look around. I can see I was right in thinking there were trees behind the building as the entire apartment complex is backed by a forest. I scan the tree line quickly looking for signs of life but see nothing. Turning back to the door to reenter my new home, I'm surprised to discover that I can see right into the next apartment. My deck is separated from the deck next door by only wooden railing and I have a clear view into my neighbor's kitchen. Slightly unnerved by the closeness to my neighbor after living in the country for so many years, I walk back into the kitchen and close and lock the deck door tightly.

I take a moment to stand in the center of the kitchen and can't stop the excitement from bubbling up. Mine! This is all mine! I have never lived in a place that was mine. I lived at my parent's till I was eight and Gran's after that, so this living someplace separate was going to a new experience. And it was definitely an experience I was ready to face head on! Deciding there was no time like the present to start bringing in boxes, I toss my key on to the kitchen counter and head out the door. I walk into the hall and turn toward the staircase when I immediately smash face first into a wall.

"Dang it!" I cry, bringing the palm of my hand to my nose as pain explodes through my sinuses. I know that I'm new to the building and all, but I was pretty sure there wasn't a wall there a few minutes ago. Through the throbbing in my head it slowly dawns on me that this isn't a normal wall. Not only did it move into place sometime while I was in the apartment, it's also warmer than it should be and seems to be gripping my shoulders. Fighting the sickening feeling brought on by movement, I a gently tilt my head back. From either side of my hand and through the tears filling my eyes, I discover my "wall" is actually a very tall, very gorgeous man. I gaze at him for a moment, taking in his clear, blue eyes, strong jaw, and shoulder length hair before mumbling an apology, pulling away and leaning myself against the actual wall. My head really hurts!

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, keeping my palm on my head for a little pressure. I can hear my heart pounding away in my chest and my head throbs with every beat. After a moment, the pain and nausea start to recede and I decide it might be safe to reduce the pressure on my head. Moving my hand away tentatively, I'm relieved to discover that the pain isn't as bad. I use the back of my hand to feel for blood and am glad to find that my nose isn't bleeding. The last thing I need on the first day of my new life is a nose bleed. I gently wipe the tears from my eyes as I open them. I am surprised to find myself still face to face with my wall. His eyes are filled with concern as he gazes at me. I jerk only slightly as his big hand grips my chin to steady my face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, reaching out a hand to the bridge of my nose.

"I think so," I reply, flinching as he touches it gently. I pull away with a hiss of pain as he puts pressure on the most sensitive spot. "My head hurts quite enough without someone squeezing my nose, thank you very much." I free myself from his grip, returning my hand to its place on my face and look up at him as he gapes at me. Gran would have skinned me for being so rude, but my nose really hurts! I know that's no excuse for rudeness so I opened my mouth to apologize when he bursts out laughing. Well! Glad I could be so amusing! Narrowing my eyes I turn to walk away. I don't have all afternoon to stand in the hall talking to walls. Today is supposed to be the first day of my new life, after all.

He stops me with a hand on my arm. "Wait, wait, I didn't mean it like that," he says, through stifled laughs. "You just surprised me, is all." He arranges his face to look more remorseful, but I can still see laughter in his eyes. "Please don't go. Let me take a look at your nose."

I look at him for a moment really thinking it through. I really don't want a stranger poking at my sore face, especially since it was partially his fault it's sore in the first place. However, he is a very handsome man and could very possibly be one of my neighbors. Growing up in a small town where everyone knows everyone, I can definitely appreciate the benefit of being friendly with neighbors. "Okay, fine," I concede with a huff, stepping back to him and lowering my hand.

I watch him has he studies my face, concentration and concern in every feature. I close my eyes against the tenderness as he gently prods at my nose. "Can you breathe through it okay?" he asks softly, very close to my ear. Without opening my eyes I inhale deeply, breathing in the masculine smell of his soap and cologne.

"Yes," I say, my eyes popping open, "I really think it's fine, just a little sore."

He stares at me for a moment before shaking his head slightly, and then says "I'm sorry for crashing into you."

"I thought you were a wall," I say with a smile. "I know I'm new here but I was pretty sure there wasn't been a wall there when I came in." He smiles back looking a bit sheepish, but I can still see that laughter lurking in his eyes.

"You're moving in here? In 204?" he asks with a gesture toward my closed door.

"Yep, 204, that's me," I reply, nodding. "You can also call me Sookie Stackhouse." I offer my hand to him to shake. Rather than shaking, he grips my fingers and extends my hand to his mouth. Eyes on mine, he places a soft kiss just behind the knuckles. Despite the headache, a pleasant chill runs through my body at the contact. Not missing a thing, his smile increases.

"Eric Northman, 205," he says. "It's great to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Eric's POV**

I didn't normally sit in my kitchen but today I could not resist. Sookie was moving in and by sitting here I could observe her without her knowledge.

I had been stunned when I literally ran into her in the hall. One second I'm texting Pam and the next she's in my arms – Sookie, the most intriguing woman I've seen a while. At first glance I thought she was just another girl. But when she looked into my eyes through her tears and I looked back into hers, I realized she was much more. I felt an instant connection to her that I found hard to resist. And when she opened her mouth and showed her spirit, I liked her even more.

I can't get involved with her, though, I just won't. No matter how much I want her and how strongly I am attracted, I'm not in the market for a relationship. And I'm not sure that I would be willing to risk her as a quick fuck. First of all, she's my neighbor; I would have to see her every day begging for my attentions even when I was done with her. Second . . . what if I can't resist? What if I need more? I cannot go there, I will not go there. A relationship with her is the last thing I need. So I sit where she can't see me and watch her carry in box after box. I can't have her, I won't let myself have her, but I can't resist watching.

My phone buzzes in my hand and I peel my eyes away from the window. I read the text from Pam and make quick work of the reply. "Do it," I type, hitting send and turning off the phone before setting it on the table beside me. I return my eyes to the window and go back to watching Sookie.

**Meanwhile, in Bon Temps . . . **

I knew she was gone so I didn't really have to be quite, but old habits die hard. I'd broken the lock on the back door and had been in the house for nearly two hours but hadn't found a thing. I was trying not to outright trash anything since I wasn't here to destroy but it was getting hard. I wasn't finding it anywhere and I was FURIOUS. I'd checked upstairs and downstairs. I'd crawled under the house. I even climbed up into that dusty old attic and went through every box remaining but didn't find a thing. I kept assuring myself and reassuring myself that it would be okay. I still had three days before she would be back and still had plenty of time to look. But I was starting to get the feeling that I wasn't going to find it here. I was starting to realize that I might have to get it from Sookie. She hadn't let on that she had it or even knew anything about it. I should have let her grandmother live and gotten it from her. Killing the old woman had been a bit of a hasty decision, I'll admit, but it seemed like the best decision at the time. Of course, I hadn't known about Sookie then. I learned my lesson, though, about patience and discipline. I wasn't going to do it wrong this time. I was sure I would find if here in the next three days. But if I didn't, I would go to Sookie. She would help me, she would have to help me – or I would force her to give me what I wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Sookie's POV**

I woke up the next morning with the sun in my eyes, feeling stiff and tired. Since the movers weren't bringing my furniture till today, I'd called an old sleeping bag my bed for the night. Apparently that wasn't a good idea at my age. With a big yawn, I rolled onto my stomach to keep the sun out of my face while I taking stock of the aches and pains that had taken root in my body while I slept. I knew that sleeping on the floor wasn't going to be great but I didn't figure I'd feel this bad. It seemed like every muscle in my entire body hurt, down to my pinky toe. I lay on the floor for another few minutes, putting off getting out of the warm bag as long as possible. Finally deciding it was now or never, I unzip the bag, wriggle myself free with a few groans, and climb to my feet. Shivering a little in the cool apartment, I reach above my head for a deep stretch. I feel a smile slide onto my face as my muscles relax and my vertebrae realign. I glance around for a clock before I remember it hasn't made it to the apartment yet and reach for my cell phone instead. I'm surprised to see it's only 6:30. The movers aren't supposed to stop by until 11:00, so I have plenty of time.

After a quick stop by the bathroom to freshen up, pull my hair into a pony tail, and throw on some old jeans and a t-shirt, I beeline for the kitchen to start the coffee maker I reverently unpacked and set up the night before. Coffee is one thing I cannot live without. My coffee maker was the last thing I packed and the first thing I unpacked in my move from Bon Temps. I am willing to admit that I have a problem, but am not about to discuss this with anyone before having my coffee.

Soothed by the sounds of coffee maker warming, my brain turns to breakfast. Breakfast was one thing that did not cross my mind last night. A quick search through a couple of boxes unearths some bread and a toaster. Since boxes completely cover the counter top, I carefully prop the toaster on the box nearest the outlet. Pressing the level to lower my toast with a small prayer that the box isn't too flammable, I turn my attention to locating a mug. However, after ten minutes of searching I realize it's hopeless. In all of the things I brought to the apartment and with all of my effort regarding the coffee maker, I completely failed to bring any sort of cup. Not only did I not have a single glass, mug, or tumbler, I was also without the water bottle I used yesterday, having tossed it in the building's recycling before turning in for the night. Frustrated, I roll my head to my chest attempting to ease the tension in my neck while considering a bowl of coffee or a frying pan of coffee. Rejecting both, I heave a sigh as I grab the toast and the entire coffee pot and head out of the kitchen.

I didn't remember to bring everything with me from Bon Temps that I would need my first day in my new apartment, but I didn't manage to bring along a folding chair. Deciding it would be nice to get out of the kitchen and away from all the boxes, I grab the chair and head for the sliding glass door. It's cool on the deck but far from cold. I shiver a bit as I kick at the chair leg to open it and lower myself onto the plastic seat. Sitting the coffee on the wide rail separating my deck from the neighboring one, I nibble at my toast while I gaze into the woods. I take a couple of deep breathes to breath in the fresh air and can feel myself instantly relax.

I always love being outside in the morning. It's such a quiet time of the day with so many people either sleeping in or working. There's not a lot of hustle and bustle which gives me time to relax and be alone. A movement in the trees catches my eye and I watch as a raccoon scampers through the forest. I realize how lucky I am to have gotten an apartment that overlooks the trees. One of my major concerns with moving to Shreveport had been adjusting from country living to apartment living, something that I understand is not easy to do. Since it looks like I will be spending some time out here, it might be a good idea to make the deck a little more homey. The folding chair may work for a few days but I would prefer something different if I'm going to be using it often.

I finish off the toast and pull the coffee pot into my lap, sipping it carefully then letting it warm my hands as I think. The first thing I should probably do is get some flowers. Things always seem homier with a few flowers around. Maybe I can get my friend Alcide to build a couple of flower boxes I can slide on over the railing. He's pretty handy at that kind of thing and it would be nice to look out into the woods over the flowers. Marigolds would be pretty and easy in the boxes but what would really make me feel at home is roses. I grew up smelling roses nearly every day of my life. It's one of those scents that make me think of home and safety and Gran. I was sad to have to leave Gran's rose bushes behind in Bon Temps but I could probably turn my deck into a bit of a rose garden away from home. Maybe I could get some potted roses and arrange them around the edge of the deck. That won't leave me much room for furniture, but I might be able to add a few chairs or a small glider. After only a moment of thought, I decide on the glider. Gran had always used the porch swing but I could work with a glider. I suddenly realize my eyes are brimming with unshed tears at all of the thoughts of Gran and I reach up to grip her necklace. The times I could think of Gran without feeling like I was tearing apart were becoming more and more frequent, but they were tempered by times like this when the sorrow crept up on me. I gave myself a moment to make sure I wasn't going to fall apart before blinking away the tears. I needed a distraction.

Glancing around my for something to take my mind off Gran, my eyes fell on adjoining deck and the apartment beyond. I wonder if this is Eric's apartment. He said he lives in apartment 205 so it would make sense that it would be right next door. I crane my neck a bit to get a look into the apartment through the sliding glass door but realize the curtains are drawn. Well that's no fun. I settle instead on studying the deck itself. The first thing that strikes me is that the deck is all function and no style. Easily twice the size of my modest space, the neighboring deck is set up for entertaining. A large, rectangular table surrounded by six chairs takes up most of the space. The table appears to be metal and glass and has a very masculine, no-nonsense look to it. Near the table and against the wall of the building is a very large covered object that is no doubt a grill. A second glance reveals the word Weber emblazoned across the front which confirms my suspicion. The only other thing on the deck is a brown plastic bench, the kind that opens at the seat for storage. All and all, though it's a very usable space, it just has no flair . . . which pretty much tells me it was outfitted by a man.

A movement at the neighbor's door startles me so much I jump. I hastily focus my gaze on the forest as I hear the curtains being pulled open. Please tell me my new neighbor didn't just catch me being nosy on my first day here! I can feel my stomach clench as the sliding door opens but it relaxes almost immediately when I see a familiar figure coming through the door. The apartment next to mine does indeed belong to Eric Northman and he certainly looks good first thing in the morning. His blue eyes and blonde hair shine in the morning sun, making him look innocent. Innocence is a strange look on a man a solid foot taller than me and built like a Viking but somehow it looks good on him. Through his dark gray t-shirt I can see the muscles in his chest and shoulders and can feel myself flush at the sight. I quickly take in the blue jeans that look like they were made for him. My first instinct is to ask him to go back inside so I can see the rear view. Instead, I smile a greeting.

"Good morning," he calls in his deep voice, walking toward me across the deck. "I thought you could probably use this." I can feel myself reddening further, this time from embarrassment, as he holds out a plain, white coffee mug. Of course, the most beautiful man I've ever met is the one who gets to see me the morning I forget to pack the cups.

I accept the mug with as normal of a laugh as I can manage. "Thank you," I say, filling the cup from the pot. "As you can see, I will do anything to coffee. But don't let this get out. I have a couple of friends that would forcibly send me to a Coffee-holics Anonymous Meeting if they knew what I would sink to. Would you like some?"

"Please," he says with a smile, pulling a second cup out of nowhere. I can't help but wonder where he had it stashed in his current attire. I'm positive he didn't have it in his hands when he walked out, but there certainly isn't enough room in those pants for anything but him. "And don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

I empty the pot into his cup and lean forward to place it on the deck. I can feel his gaze following me as I settle back in the chair. Sipping my coffee I watch him out of the corner of my eye. I'm not sure if he intends to stay or go. He doesn't seem to be leaving but isn't really standing close enough engage. I risk a full on look and find him staring at me, a strange expression on his face. Under my gaze, he instantly rearranges his features into an easy smile, and says, "So how is that nose this morning? Didn't do any permanent damage, I hope?"

I instinctually raise my hand to my face and crinkle up my nose as I press on the bridge, looking for pain. It is a little tender, but not enough that I've noticed. "It's a little sore, but I think I'll live."

"Good," he responds, giving me an intense look, "I wouldn't want to kill off my neighbor on her first day here."

"I appreciate that! I would hate to miss the entire moving experience."

The laugh I remember distinctly from yesterday rumbles through his chest, and he says, "I imagine you would. However, I can think of a few things that can be more fun than moving." I watch as his smile transforms into a smirk and I'm sure I can imagine what he is thinking. Between the suggestive look on his face and his piercing gaze, I'm starting to get uncomfortable. I feel like I'm and antelope and he's a lion that wants to eat me in one bite. Squirming a bit in my seat, I upended my mug and finish off my coffee. I stand.

"Well, Eric, thank you so much for the mug but I really need to get going. The movers are coming around eleven and I have to do a bit of cleaning before they get here. Let me wash this for you and I will return it next time I see you." Without waiting for a response I turn toward my door.

"Wait."

I spin around quickly and look at Eric. He looks surprised to have spoken, as if the words came out of someone else's mouth. His arm is lifted slightly as if reaching out to physically stop me. He recovers quickly and lowers his arm. With a gentle smile he says, "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?"

I have always had a talent for keeping my feelings from showing on my face. I am especially thankful for this gift now as I'm sure I'd have been gaping at Eric otherwise. Of all the things he could have said, that was the last thing I was expecting to hear. And it was the worst time he could have possibly asked me. "I'm so sorry, I would really love to but I can't. With moving and everything, I don't think I'll have the time or energy to go anywhere."

"But you need to eat sometime. Would it be more agreeable if I could arrange to you bring you dinner? I could bring it by this evening around eight."

I look at him thoughtfully for a moment really considering. I guess having him over to have dinner wouldn't be so bad, especially if he was bringing it. I would need to make a real effort to get things unpacked and presentable before he arrived, but I was sure I could do it. With a decisive nod, I say, "Eight it is. You bring the food and I'll supply the plates. And don't you worry, I'm sure I've packed them." His laughter followed me inside.

I spent the next few hours vacuuming and scrubbing the apartment from top to bottom. I'm sure it was cleaned when the previous tenant left, but it just didn't feel like home till I'd done it myself. Only minutes after everything was clean to my satisfaction, the movers arrived and I spent the next hour helping muscly men deliver furniture and boxes to the appropriate places. After they left, I only managed to unpack one box before the exhaustion hit me. I tried to work through it knowing I needed to unpack before Eric came over, but finally gave in to the feeling and allowed myself to sit on the couch. Resting my head on the cushions, I promised myself I wouldn't nap and would get up in just a few minutes. That was my last thought before I was fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Sookie's POV**

"Sookie."

"Hmm?"

"Wake up."

My eyes pop open immediately and I find myself staring into a set of gorgeous baby blues. Oh shit, Eric!

"I'm so sorry," I say, sitting suddenly. "I can't believe I fell asleep!"

"No problem," he says, giving me a smile. "But you really should have locked the door. Why don't you take a few minutes to wake up while I get the food ready?" He stands from where he was crouched at the side of the couch. His warm hand slides off my thigh. I hadn't even realized it was there. I look after him dumbly has he walks to the kitchen carrying two paper bags. I can't believe I feel asleep! I'd sat down for just a minute and promised myself I wouldn't nap. Looking out the window into the near darkness I can see that I did indeed nap. Whether I like it or not, I've just slept away at least four hours.

I scramble from my place on the couch and rush to the bathroom. There was so much I was hoping to do before Eric came over! Now I won't even get a chance to change out of my cleaning and moving clothes. I pull the hair tie from my hair and run a brush through it. Despite the brush, my hair is majorly creased from being up all day. Well crap. I don't have time to do anything with it, so rather than leaving it down I pull it up into a messy bun. Not the best but it'll have to do. Anyway, I'm pretty sure messy is in now. After splashing some water on my face and swishing a bit of mouthwash, I leave the solitude of the bathroom and go out to face Eric. I find him in the kitchen taking small white boxes out of one of the bags. One breath tells me that he's brought me Chinese. My stomach grumbles hungrily.

"Thanks so much for brining dinner over, everything smells wonderful," I say, working on digging some plates and flatware out of a box. "Sorry things are still a mess. I hoped to get everything unpacked before you came over but it didn't really work out that way."

"Don't worry about it," he says with a laugh, "I have seen much worse. I trust you rested well?"

"I did. I guess moving takes more energy than I thought it would. I really had no plans to take a nap." I finally liberate the plates from the box and turn to Eric with a smile. "Plates, as promised. Now where do you want to eat? I'm afraid I didn't have time to clear the table."

"Let's go outside, it's a nice night. We can use my deck."

I follow Eric to my back door with the plates in my hand. He slides the door open and steps onto the deck. I step out after him and relish in the feeling of the night air. It's almost completely dark now but the light from the apartment casts just the right amount of light across the decks. Before I can close the door behind me, his long legs are straddling the railing. "Come on. I'll help you over."

I figure it would probably be easier to walk around through his apartment but keep those thoughts to myself. I set the plates on the chair and walk over to the railing. I place my hands on Eric's shoulders and feel a shiver run through me as he slides his hands down my sides before settling them at my waist. "Jump," he says. My body reacts before my mind thinks it through and next thing I know, I jump. With Eric's help my bottom lands squarely on the railing with my legs on my side of the deck. I swing one leg over so I'm straddling the railing and take a moment to relish the feeling of Eric's chest against my back. A short moment later I lift my other leg over and drop down onto Eric's deck.

"Go ahead and have a seat," he says, "I'll be right back." I settle into the closest chair as I watch him grab the plates and walk through my sliding door. The door clicks shut behind him and a chill washes through me. Even though I'm less than ten steps from two apartments I feel isolated and vulnerable out here alone. A noise in the woods attracts my attention and I turn my gaze that way. My eyes light upon something at the tree line but I can't tell quite what it is in the darkening light. I focus on it with all of my might, straining to see movement or anything that could identify the object. I can tell it's bigger than a raccoon but can't discern a specific shape. A wave of uneasiness crashes over me and I feel my skin crawl. I feel like someone is watching me.

A noise on the deck behind me startles me and I spin in my chair. I'm surprised to see Eric walking out his door with the food and plates in his hands. The tension breaks instantly. I turn back to the spot in the woods, but can't see anything in the darkness. I breathe out uneasily, trying to calm my nerves. I'm willing to chock this one up to my imagination but can't seem to stop my heart from racing.

"You took the easy way over," I comment with a laugh, trying to make conversation as much as lighten the mood. The laugh sounds forced and nervous to my ears.

"I don't think so. You had the advantage. All you had to worry about was you. I was the one who had to bring the food."

I watch as he gently places the plates on the table, followed by the bags of food and a couple of wine glasses. He takes a bottle of red wine from the first bag before emptying the second of it's boxes. He pours our wine and surprises me by pulling a couple of tea light candles from his back pocket. He situates them well away from the boxes before lighting them. I smile as he settles into the chair next to me. "This is nice," I say. "I'll bet you do this for all your neighbors."

"Not likely," he says with a laugh, reaching over to pop open the boxes.

I rise from my chair to see what he's brought and am shocked to discover pretty much anything I could want. "Looks like you bought out the place," I say, not hesitating to reach out of for the closest box.

"Not quite. But I did order the left half of the menu."

It takes me a minute and a look into his eyes to realize he's joking, and I laugh while I fill my plate. Settling back in my chair, I place a napkin in my lap and pass over the fork for chopsticks. Nothing says Chinese like trying to pick up slippery noodles and tiny rice pieces with two wooden sticks. After a moment of concentrated effort, I manage to get some lo mien into my mouth and moan out my satisfaction. I haven't eaten since my toast at breakfast, and I have a feeling that anything would taste heavenly now. After a few more bites I realize that I'm the only one eating and glance over at Eric. He's sitting back in his chair easily, long legs stretched out in front of him. His hands are folded together with his tented forefingers resting on his lips. With his handsome looks and a gentle breeze to ruffle his hair, he could be a model. All except that slightly constipated look on his face. The laughter bubbles up before I can stop it.

"You'd better get at it, I can't eat all this by myself," I say, gesturing toward the boxes with my chopsticks.

"I know," he says, looking at me intensely. "You're very beautiful in the candlelight."

I nearly inhale a noodle at the suddenness of his comment and grab for my wine. After a long sip I smile over at him. "Thank you," I say, "That's so sweet."

He looks at me for a moment more before giving himself a small shake and leaning forward to grab an egg roll. Taking a big bite he says, "There. I'm eating. Are you happy?"

I nod a bit as I laugh. "Very much, thank you. So Eric, why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"Sure," he says, grabbing his plate and piling it with food. "There's really not much to tell. I live here, of course. I like Chinese food. I'm pretty tall, as you can see, and women generally tell me I'm attractive." He grins and wiggles his eye brows at me while I roll my eyes in his direction. He picks up his own set of chopsticks and starts in on his food. I can't help but notice he's much more adept at using his than I am at using mine.

"That's not what I meant! What do you do, where are you from, what are your hobbies, that kind of thing."

"Oh. Well I own a bar downtown, Glasir. That's where I've been spending most of my time these days."

"Glasir. Is that new? I don't think I've heard of it."

"I guess you could say it's new. We've only been open for three months but things are going well. Business has been good so far."

"Is there any chance you're hiring?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I've worked as a waitress at Merlotte's in Bon Temps for the last few years. My boss is a good friend of mine, and he's letting me stay on there till I find work here in Shreveport. Since I'm starting at LSU next week and Merlotte's is a long drive, I'm not going to have much time during the week to work. Sam's letting me do double shifts on weekends and every other Friday, which is really nice of him, but double shifts are the worst so I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up that schedule for long. I'm really trying to find something in the area that I can do more regularly during the week but so far I haven't been having much luck."

He looks at me for a long moment, his eyes searching my face as if he's looking for something specific. "No, we're not hiring. Tell me more about this Bon Temps. This is the reason I was able to access your apartment so easily this evening?"

I hide my disappointed look quickly. "Well yeah, it's a small town. It's the kind of place where everyone knows everyone and everyone is in everyone's business. We don't really need to worry about locking our doors there. I've lived there pretty much my whole life and still have a house there. I'm planning on renting it out as soon as I clean it up and find someone wanting to live there. I should just sell it and be done with it, but I can't. It was my gran's house. She passed away four months ago."

"Tell me about your gran."

I push my plate away from me, suddenly not so hungry. I haven't talked about Gran much since the funeral but something about Eric feels safe and brooks no argument. My hand immediately rises to the necklace hiding under my t-shirt and I look out into the darkness toward the place that held my attention earlier.

"My parents died when I was a girl and Gran was the one who raised me. She use to say that God doesn't give us anything we can't handle and she really seemed to take that to heart. That had to be hard on her, taking in a little girl and her brother, when she was so old. But Gran did it all with a smile on her face, even though Jason could be a nightmare and I'm sure I wasn't an angel. Sometimes I would catch her watching us with a strange look on her face and got the feeling that maybe we were doing her as much good as she was doing us.

She used to love flowers and used to get outside every chance she got to dig in the dirt a little. When I was young and she was working, she would go out before the sun came up to tend to her gardens since she didn't have any other time to do it. I remember that I used to stand at the back door just as the sun was coming up and call out for her. She would stop what she was doing and come to me. She wouldn't even both to finish what she was doing or put away her tools, she would just come to the door. She would hug me to her chest and tell me not to be scared because Gran was there and wouldn't leave me. She smelled of dew and dirt and roses and that was the best smell in the world to me. It smelled organic and beautiful and made me feel safe. I never told her, but I was wasn't scared. I knew she was just right outside the door. I just wanted her to hug me so I could smell her before she washed away the dirt.

My gran was everything to me. She was my mother and my father and I would have done anything for her. When Jason grew up, he moved away, but I stayed with Gran. She took care of me when I couldn't care for myself and I wanted to do the same for her. She always denied whole-heartedly that she was getting old but I could see in on her. The number days when she would garden and come in smelling like roses got to be less and less . . . until finally she was gone."

I feel something hit my shirt and look down at the small wet spot. Now where did that come from? I blink my eyes at the spot in surprise only to shower myself with several more tears. I hear Eric push his chair back with a scrape and rise. Crap. Why did I have to talk about this now? Why couldn't I have just told him I didn't want to talk about it?

"I'm sorry," I mumble, wiping at my face roughly, "I didn't mean to do this. I'll go." I push back from the table and stand, only to find myself face to chest with Eric. His arms come up around me and he draws me to him.

"Shhh, it's okay" he croons, rubbing small circles on my back. I can feel myself losing control and breathe deeply in an attempt to reel in my emotions. Eric sits back in his chair, pulling me into his lap and caressing my back. Though he doesn't smell like roses and dirt, he smells masculine and safe. I bury my face in his chest and give up my fight against the tears. I cry in his arms until the candles go out and I've soaked his shirt through.

"Better now?" he asks when my sobs quiet, tilting my face to his with a finger under my chin. I nod sheepishly as I look into his eyes. I'm sure I look a mess and I know I've wrecked his shirt. He cups my cheek with his hand, giving me another one of those searching looks. Before I can apologize for ruining his shirt, he lowers his face and brushes his lips over mine so gently I could have imagined it. I don't have a chance to figure out whether or not I did before he lowers his face again, this time pressing his lips to mine with more force. He moves his hand to my neck and parts his lips, deepening the kiss. A shudder travels through my body as his tongue meets mine. As I try to figure out if it's from the night air or desire, something vibrates close to my butt. What the heck?

Eric breaks off the kiss with a bit of a growl. He shifts me on his lap as he reaches into his pocket to pull out the offending object. "Hello?" he barks into the phone harshly. I jump a bit at his tone and rise from his lap. The least I can do is give him a little privacy.

I busy myself with putting away the food while he talks softly in the background. I can't help but wonder where I would have let things go if not for that interruption. I have never felt so instantly attracted to a man in all my life. It's like there's something inside Eric calling out to something inside me and that pull is almost irresistible. Hearing him finish up, I turn back to face him as he stands.

"I've had a great time but I really have to go," he says briskly, all emotion gone from his voice. I blink at him blankly. "Something's come up at the bar that just can't wait. Why don't you hang onto the left-over food? You can have it for lunch tomorrow."

"Sure," I say, dumbfounded by his attitude change. I look at him for a moment longer before grabbing the bag with the remaining food and heading over to the rail separating our decks. I drop the bag over to my side and stand on the closest object, the plastic bench, to launch myself over. Landing on the other side, I turn back to Eric. "Guess I'll see you around?" I say. I hate that I can hear the question in my voice.

"See you," he responds a little harshly, turning to go inside. "And lock the door."

Well that was disappointing.

I watch him disappear through the door before walking into my own kitchen. I lock the door behind me, as ordered, and make a trip to the front door to lock that one as well. I make quick work of stashing the Chinese before going to hunt down the box containing the sheets. I may have had a lengthy nap earlier but I still feel exhausted. I hope I'm not getting sick. Now would be the worst possible time for the flu.

I locate the sheets and quickly put them on the bed, relishing the thought of sleeping on my soft, familiar mattress. I would have never believed I'd be so happy to get the opportunity to sleep in my own bed! I pull my hair out of it's bun and slide between the sheets. I click off the light and close my eyes before realizing it's been hours since I've seen my phone. With a sigh, I turn the light back on and climb out of the bed.

I pad through the house in bare feet for a couple minutes before locating my little black phone on the stove between two boxes. Not a great place for a phone but it's no more out of place than the boxes surrounding it. I head back to the bed and snuggle under the covers before hitting the button to check for missed calls. No one called, but it looks like Amelia texted.

"Hey grl, hows new plce? Shrvprt as g8 as u hoped?"

I delete the message automatically and pull up the contact list to return Amelia's text. Things look a bit different and I take a moment to really focus on the small list of names. It takes me a moment, but I finally realize that sandwiched between Dr. Ludwig and Halleigh Robinson is one additional name – Eric Northman. He must have programmed his information into my phone when I was in the bathroom.

"High-handed," I mumble, texting Amelia and clicking off the light to go to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Sookie's POV**

I'm wide awake instantly, my eyes peering around the darkness in the room. What in the world was that? I hold my breath as I lay silently in the bed, straining to hear any noises or sense any movement in the apartment. Something must have woken me. After a few minutes of vigilance and no further movement, I decide there's nothing there. Maybe I dreamed it? I slide out of the bed for a quick trip to the bathroom. I return to the bed, slip under the covers, and am asleep instantly.

xxx

The next time my eyes open, sunlight is spilling into the room and the smell of coffee fills the air. A quick look at the clock tells me it's time to get up. I stretch gently in the bed, glad to feel that some of the stiffness from yesterday is gone from my body. I have too many things to do today to worry about sore muscles. First on my list for the day is school registration. I hop from the bed and head to the shower.

My skin tingles painfully as the hot water touches my cool flesh. I shiver with pleasure as I feel my body warming from the head down. I move my heel to step on the drain plug and savor the feeling of warm water pooling at my feet. Now maybe I can think a little bit.

I am due at the Louisiana State University Shreveport campus at 9:00 a.m. Classes start Monday but today I have to go through orientation, make sure I'm squared away with financial aid, and purchase my books. On one hand, I'm very excited to get started. It seems like I've been waiting forever to go to college, even though it's been only seven years since high school. On the other hand, I am terrified. I am a smart girl, don't get me wrong, but it's been so many years since I last attended school, what if I'm not cut out for it? I was always preoccupied in school and was never that great of a student. The kids I went to school with thought I was crazy, and told me so frequently. I was very lucky to have Gran growing up. She was the one that helped me understand I wasn't crazy, I just had a bunch of things to deal with that other kids didn't.

I pick up the shampoo bottle and start in on my hair. I need to get my mind off my nerves and onto other things. Like what in the world was going on with Eric last night? One second we were kissing and everything was going great, the next he couldn't wait to get away from me! I know I shouldn't be upset, I've only know the man for a day and a half, but there is just something about Eric I can't resist. He is handsome, that's for sure, but I've met many handsome men in my life and didn't immediately fall into their arms. I've never really believed in love at first sight but could that be what this is? I like him, certainly, but love seems like a stretch. And doesn't the other party have to be interested for love at first sight to work properly?

After one final rinse and a deep sigh, I finish up in the shower and walk into my room to get dressed. September in Louisiana is nearly as hot as the summer during the days, so I take a moment to search my closet for something summery and sophisticated. I refuse to look like a trashy small town girl on my first day in college. After some contemplation I finally decide on a sleeveless blue tunic that Gran bought for my birthday two years ago along and a pair of snug, white Bermuda length shorts that look great with my tan. That should fit the bill. I slip out of my towel and dress quickly then go back to the bathroom for makeup and hair. I spend twenty minutes drying my hair and making it curly and another five sweeping on a bit of blush, mascara, and lip gloss. I slide on a pair of brown sandals, pour my coffee into a travel mug, and head out the door, right on time.

It takes twenty minutes in morning traffic to get from my apartment to the campus, which was about ten minutes longer than I thought it might. Realizing I'm running late I find a place to park quickly, glad to have checked a campus map a few days ago in Bon Temps, and head off to the appropriate building. I slide into my seat just as a speaker steps to the front of the room and can feel the excitement overtaking the nerves.

I can't believe I'm finally here!

xxx

Two hours later, I walk out of the auditorium with a headache. I was properly welcomed, met with my advisor, got my student ID, received my email address and internet access information, and was cleared by financial aid. I am already tired, and it isn't even eleven yet! The only thing I need to do before I can leave is purchase my books.

I walk into the bookstore behind several other students and am shocked by the crowd. Apparently everyone on campus needs to purchase books this morning. I can hear the air conditioner whirring away but the room is sweltering. I feel a little sick and dizzy at the sudden blast of heat and decide to make quick work of the bookstore. I shove through the crowd as politely as I can and find my required books quickly. I push my way back through the throng to get to the check out and get in line behind a tall, bald man built like a linebacker. I stand in line for what seems like forever, the books getting heavier and heavier in my arms and feeling more light headed every second I spend in the heat. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

"Excuse me, sir," I say to the man in front of me, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns and looks down at me, staring at me with the most unusual purple eyes. "Is there any way I could go in front of you? I'm not feeling well in this heat and just need to get out of here." I feel the room sway a bit and widen my stance to steady myself. Big and Bald reaches out to grip my elbow.

"Of course," he says, studying my face. "Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

"I'm okay, just need to get away from all this heat. Thank you so much." I shake him off my elbow and move up to the counter, relishing the coolness of the Formica under my hands. The clerk works quickly and it takes no time at all for her to ring up my purchase. After paying, I head for the exit as quickly as possible. To my surprise, Big and Bald follows me to the door.

I can feel the heat rolling off me as soon as I'm outside but the dizziness doesn't let up. I spot an empty bench under a tree several yards away and beeline to it. I settle onto the bench in relief and close my eyes against the spinning. After a moment, someone sits next to me. I open my eyes to see Big and Bald gazing at me in concern.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. "You really didn't look like you felt well back there." He raises his hand as if to touch my cheek and I shift away from him. I'm touched that he's concerned but I'm very hot and just want to be left alone. I wish I could tell him as much but I can't bring myself to be that impolite. Gran would roll over her in grave if she knew I wasn't being polite to someone trying to help me.

"I'm fine, really. Just got a little too hot, that's all. Thanks for checking." Feeling slightly better, I decide to recover in the car away from this overly concerned man and rise from the bench. Big and Bald won't take the hint and follows behind me.

"Are you new here?" he asks the back of my head. "I haven't seen you around."

"Yes, I've just finished orientation. My first class is Monday."

"That's nice. Maybe I'll see you around. I'm an adjunct professor so I'm here all the time. I'm John Quinn, by the way, but everyone calls me Quinn."

"Sookie Stackhouse, pleased to meet you," I say automatically.

"Sookie," he says, as if rolling it around in his mouth. "That's an unusual name. Is that short for something?"

"Nope, it's just Sookie."

"Well, just Sookie, I was wondering if you would like to go out with me sometime." I roll my eyes, glad he can't see my expression from behind me. I'm walking away from his guy as fast as my legs can carry me and he takes that as a sign that I'm interested? This man is either really confident or a huge idiot. My mind goes to Eric. There's no way I'm accepting a date from this guy when things with Eric are still uncertain.

I paste on a smile and turn to face him. "Thank you so much for asking Quinn, but I'm seeing someone else right now."

"No problem, Babe. You let me know if you change your mind. I'll always be interested in seeing more of you." I can feel my skin crawl as I take in his leer.

"I will do that. It was great to meet you," I turn to the parking area abruptly, making a point to keep my eyes forward as I walk.

I let myself into the car and slide onto the hot upholstery. I'm glad to see that Quinn took the hint and stopped following me. Leaving the door open to let out the heat, I turn the key in the ignition and crank the AC. After a couple minutes, the car starts to cool down, cooling me with it. I finally decide I've reached the line where I'm letting more hot air in than out and slam the door shut. Since I don't intend to go anywhere for a few more minutes, I dig my phone out of my purse and turn it on. I have a voicemail. I hit the button to retrieve my messages and key in my password.

"Sookie," says the familiar voice through the ear piece, "it's Bill. I was just thinking of you and thought we might be able to get together. I'm back in town now and want to see you. I really regret how things progressed in our relationship and was hoping we could go out soon. We can do anything you want. I really do love you darling and will do anything to make things up to you. Please call me when you can."

I can feel my irritation level rise another notch as I hit delete. Bill Compton. He was the last person I wanted to hear from today. Though we only dated for a couple months, he was certainly a story and half.

Feeling more myself, I put the car in gear and start the drive back to the apartment.

I'm not exactly sure how things got started with Bill. Well, that's not quite right. I know how thing started with Bill, I just don't know how I let them get so far.

Bill popped up in my life just three days after Gran died. He had just moved into the house across the cemetery and walked over that day to meet his new neighbor. As you can imagine, I wasn't feeling very neighborly, but Gran had trained me to be a gracious host and a true Southern lady. I couldn't let her down so soon after she passed. I invited Bill in and offered him some iced tea but never made it back to him from the fridge. Bill found me at the kitchen table crying my eyes out.

At first, it seemed like Bill had appeared in my life at just the right time and I depended on him to get through the next few weeks. He was always so attentive to my moods and my needs. He didn't mind holding me when I cried or listening when I talked about Gran. He knew when to push me and when to hold back and told me loved me often. He was always stoic and steady and just the kind of presence I needed in my life so soon after such a tragic event. I craved his comfort, both physical and emotional, and was so thankful to have him in my life. It wasn't long, though, before things started to change.

As best I can tell when I think back on the situation, it started with the phone call Bill received late one night after I'd gone to sleep. I wasn't able to hear what the call was about. I just remember waking up from a deep sleep to hear him talking in loud, angry whispers. It was almost like he was trying to speak quietly but his temper just wouldn't let him keep his voice down. I remember it was strange to me because I'd never seen Bill so emotional about anything. When he realized I was awake, he ended the call immediately. I asked him what it was about and all he would say was business.

After that, he grew more distant. Rather than coming over every day to spend time with me, he started visiting once or twice a week. On the few occasions we went out after that, he refused to go anywhere that wasn't hand-picked by him. He started trying to control me by telling me what to wear and demanding that I only see my friends when and where he said. At first, I went along with him. Bill had been so helpful to me since Gran died and I was hesitant to throw away the comfort that he offered by wearing the shirt I wanted or hanging out with friends. But then I started noticing little things about him that didn't add up.

He told me many times that he grew up in the North but spoke with an accent I associate with the Deep South. He told me he moved to Bon Temps to work, but I never saw him go to work, and he never talked about his job. Worst of all, he would occasionally know things about me and my family that I could have sworn I didn't tell him. When I would bring it up, he always insisted that I had told him and had forgotten, but every time he mentioned something I knew I hadn't disclosed, my blood would run cold.

Even through my doubts, I stuck by Bill as our relationship grew worse. In hindsight, I should have put a stop to things before they got so bad, but he said he loved me and I believed him. Everything changed, though, the day he walked out of my life.

It was Saturday and we had plans to go to the Civil War museum. It was Bill's choice, of course. I was all ready to go and waiting to be picked up when I received a text from him. He said he had been called out of town suddenly for work and didn't have time to stop and say goodbye. I tried to call him immediately and sent a few texts, but his phone was turned off. I cried the rest of the night in worry.

A couple of days went by and Bill still hadn't returned. I out of my mind with worry and tried to call frequently, but all I ever got was voicemail. A few days after that, I received a letter from him in the mail. He said that he had been detained and didn't have access to a phone to get in touch with me. He told me not to worry about him and that he would be home as soon as possible. After two more weeks, with no word from Bill, I decided things were over. Four days later, I moved to Shreveport.

Understandably, Bill is the last person I want to hear from right now.

I suddenly realize that I've made it all the way home, but don't remember the drive at all. I can feel my head pounding from the events of the morning and I can't wait to get inside where it's cool and I'm alone. I might even turn off my phone so I don't have to hear from Bill any more today if he decides to call me again.

I scramble up the stairs as quickly as possible, only to find a plain, white envelope taped to my apartment door. Someone with small, cramped handwriting had written "Sookie" on the front. Great, a mysterious letter. Just what I need today.

I grab it from the door and fold the tape over the side as I head into my apartment. I toss my purse down on the closest box and tear into the envelope as I flop onto the couch. My eyes automatically search out the bottom of the note trying to find out who'd written it. "E." was all it said. Was this from Eric? There only one way to find out. I begin to read.

"Sookie,

I am sorry for my sudden departure last night. There was something at the bar that required my immediate attention. I fear that in my haste to leave I may have treated you poorly. I would like to make it up to you. If you are available, I would like you to join me for lunch. I will be at Glasir today but please call me when you get home. I know you have my number.

E."

This is interesting. So Eric is interested in me after all? That must be the only explanation since he wants to see me again. Maybe he feels the same way about me as I do about him? Not wasting another second to think, I grab my purse and dig out my phone. I find his name on my contact list and press send.

"Northman," he barks in greeting, and I jump. Someone needs to teach that man proper telephone etiquette.

"Uhm, Eric? It's Sookie. I got your note. You said you wanted to do lunch?"

The silence at the end of the line is so long I think we've been disconnected. I move the phone away and peer at the small screen to see if I've lost the call. I'm surprised to see I haven't and return the phone to my ear.

"Now isn't really a good time," he says finally, his voice giving away nothing.

"What the heck are you talking about, you told me to call you!" I nearly shout, the irritation that had been building all day finally boiling over. Between thoughts of Bill, being hit on by Quinn, and being blown off last night, the last thing I'm in the mood for right now is games from one man whose advances I might welcome.

I hear movement on Eric's end of the line, and hear a woman laughing. Was this woman the reason now wasn't a good time? The lady's voice speaks, barely audible in the background, "Eric, baby, who are you talking to? Come on back here and touch me."

My eyebrows hit my hairline in surprise and I can feel my mouth drop open as I press the button to disconnect the call.

I guess that answers my question.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Eric's POV**

"Sookie," I bark into the phone, but she's already gone. Fuck.

I can feel my anger rising and hear the phone crack in my hand. I force myself to loosen my grip before it breaks and drop it onto the couch in my office. Then I turn to face the woman perched on the edge of my desk, looking innocent. Sophie-Anne. My own personal problem.

"What the fuck?" I roar in her direction as I cross the room to loom over her. "I will never touch you, you crazy whore!"

She laughs, tilting her head back to show off her pale and flawless neck. My anger was never effective on Sophie-Anne, so I step back from the desk and reel in my emotions. It takes all my self-control but I manage to bottle the anger.

"Oh Eric, don't freak out," she says coolly, crossing her legs seductively and twirling a strand of her red hair. "You know what you want me. That's why I'm here."

I'm so angry at her sudden appearance that my vision is almost red. No good will come from hitting this woman so I force steel and calm into my voice. "Do not tell me you came all the way from New Orleans to try to reconcile. We are DONE, Sophie-Anne. We are never going to be together. How many times do I need to tell you this?" I watch her eyes flash with anger as she stares at me.

"Why can't we be together? We belong together. Is it because of that bitch on the phone? I can take care of her, you know I can. I've taken care of plenty of others before her. What was her name, Sookie? That won't be a hard one, how many Sookie's can there be?"

Before I can think, I'm in front of her, a hand on either side of her body pinning her to the desk. I'm pleased to see her jump. "Lay a finger on Sookie and I will personally make you pay. Am I making myself clear?"

She blinks at me a couple of times, trying to decide if I'm serious before nodding reluctantly.

"Let me hear you say it," I command.

"I will not lay a finger on Sookie," she says timidly.

"Good. I'm done with you. We are not doing this again. Leave. Now." I push off the desk, releasing her.

Sophie-Anne has the decency to look frightened but I can see she's not finished. That woman is never done.

"Fine," she says, hopping off my desk, "I'll go. But don't think for a second this is over. We are meant to be together, Eric, and I will do everything in my power to make sure we are."

I watch as she flounces out of my office.

The moment she is gone I retrieve my phone from the leather couch. I'm glad to see it's still in working order and I did not damage it irreparably. I punch in Sookie's number quickly and curse when it goes straight to voicemail. I decide against leaving a message.

My instinct is to go straight home. First and foremost, I want to make sure Sophie-Anne doesn't already know where Sookie lives. Despite her vow to leave Sookie alone, Sophie-Anne has proven herself dangerous to women she sees as a threat to our perceived relationship. Sophie-Anne and I have been broken up for years, but that has never stopped her from popping up periodically to defend what she thinks is hers. She has scared off or physically assaulted close to a dozen women I've dated, and has been in jail as many times. If nothing else, I owe it to Sookie to make sure she's safe. It's my interest in her that has made her a target on Sophie-Anne's bizarre radar.

Unfortunately, going home isn't a possibility. I haven't been to Glasir in two days and there are several things that need to be taken care of that just can't wait. Additionally, I have an important meeting with one of our investors tonight that can't be rescheduled. Victor isn't known for his patience and compassion and I am forced to bend to his scheduling whims if I want him as an investor.

Frustrated at my lack of options and desperate to see Sookie safe, I force myself to think. Maybe I can send Pam to her? I dismiss the thought as quickly as it enters my mind. What could Pam possibly say to Sookie that would help this situation? Knowing Pam, she would just make things worse. But Pam could hold her own against Sophie-Anne. Maybe I should send her to my place instead of to Sookie? I quickly dial her number.

"Pam," she says in greeting.

"Sophie-Anne might be headed for Sookie and I can't get her on the phone. Could you go over to my apartment until I can get there to make sure she stays safe?"

I can hear her sigh. "This is my one day off and you want me to sit at your apartment to make sure Sophie-Anne doesn't show up to hurt your neighbor?"

"Just do it, Pam. Please."

"Fine. But you owe me."

"You're right, I do," I say, the relief flooding through me not evident in my voice. "I'll be there after my meeting with Victor, so probably around nine. You don't have to talk to Sookie, just keep an eye on her and call me immediately if Sophie-Anne shows up."

"I will take care of it." She says, as she disconnects the call.

xxx

I arrive at my apartment two hours later than expected. Pam greets me at the door.

"It's about time you got here," she says, walking past me before I can even get to the apartment. She must have been watching for me at the peephole.

"Any sign of Sophie-Anne?"

"Nope, not even a red hair blew by," she says, rolling her eyes. "Why would you think Sophie-Anne was after Sookie anyway?"

"Sophie-Anne stopped by Glasir this afternoon. Sookie called me while she was there. I was careful not to give anything away but she decided on her own that Sookie was a threat."

"I warned you. When she showed up at Glasir last night I knew what she was after."

"I know. Goodnight, Pam," I say, walking into my apartment and closing the door behind me. I walk through my living room and straight to the kitchen to see if I can see Sookie moving around her apartment. She really needs to make it a priority to get a curtain for that window. If I can see in, anyone can. To my surprise, Sookie is sitting outside on the deck. My body wants to go to her immediately but I force myself to take a moment to study her.

She looks beautiful, as always, her long blonde hair shining in the light coming from her apartment. Her face looks tired and it looks like she might be teetering on the edge of sleep in her little plastic chair. She'll need to get rid of that thing and get something more comfortable if she plans on spending significant time out there. I will keep my eyes open for something that will suit her needs.

Unable to glean any further information from her sleepy face, I open the door and cross the deck.

It takes her a moment to rouse herself enough to see me coming, but when she does, she doesn't look happy. She rises from her chair immediately and starts toward the door. I'm too quick for her and have myself over the railing and in front of her in seconds. She jumps in surprise and steps away from me. "What do you want, Eric?" she asks, looking up at me warily. From this distance, I can see that her eyes are puffy and it looks like she's been crying. I grab her upper arms roughly and pull her into the light for a better look. Yes, she was definitely crying. Fuck. She jerks away from me and I let her go.

"You've been crying. What did she do to you?"

"Why don't you mind your own business? Nobody did anything to me." She tries to push past me into the apartment but I block her way.

"Sookie," I begin, "We need to talk about this afternoon. I owe you an explanation."

I watch as her chin rises and hands fist on her hips. "Nope, uh uh, I don't want to hear it. Your business is your business. Who and what you do in your spare time is up to you and has nothing to do with me. You don't owe me a thing. Now if you'll kindly let me by? I've had a rough day and really need to get to bed."

I look at her, stunned, but step aside. She's not even going to give me a chance to explain? I watch her walk through the kitchen and disappear into her bedroom. I reach out a hand to tug on the door handle to make sure it's locked. Now that Sophie-Anne knows about her, I can't let her take any chances.

I make the decision to stay vigilant where Sookie is concerned as I walk back to my apartment.

I guess I'll give her a day to cool down and try to make up with her tomorrow. She can't be angry with me forever.

**Meanwhile, in the woods behind Sookie's apartment . . . **

I watch as the tall, blonde man called Eric returns to his apartment. I was glad to see Sookie give him the brush off. I couldn't have him keeping tabs on her. It isn't part of my plan.

I watch as the light in Sookie's apartment clicks off and imagine her climbing into bed. The thought of that luscious little body between the sheets makes my mouth water and my dick harden instantly. I would like nothing more than to climb into bed with her and fuck her senseless. With that thought at the front my mind, I watch the lights in Eric's apartment go off. It's not strictly in the plan, but I'm sure I could fit in a quick fuck before the night is over. I'm certain Sookie would love to have me.

I quickly cross the expanse of lawn separating the apartment building from the woods. I scale the trellis on the patio below Sookie's deck and reach to grab the railing. It takes some effort, but I manage to pull myself up and onto the deck. I move quietly to Sookie's door, staying in the shadows. I lay a hand on the pane of glass almost reverently. I just have to get through this door and I'll be one step closer to getting what I want. My dick jerks almost violently and I take a moment to stroke it through my pants. Sex will be the bonus, but it's not the objective. I have to stay focused.

I reach for the handle to slide the door open and am surprised to discover that it's locked. Sookie's never been a door locker, maybe Eric had something to do with this new development? Good thing I've come prepared.

I take the lock pick kit from my pocket just as the light in Eric's kitchen turns on. Turning quickly, I sink into the shadows trying my hardest to stay still. I can feel my anger rising at the interruption. I watch as he sets a laptop on the table and sits down behind it, facing Sookie's apartment. I hold my breath as he stares out the window intently. I silently pray he can't see me. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, he focuses his attention on the screen in front of him. Seeing my chance, I move from the shadows.

Very cautiously, I inch my way to the edge of the deck. I climb over the railing and drop to the ground with a quiet thud. I stay still for a moment, crouching, to see if anyone heard me. When no lights come on and no one comes outside, I cross the lawn at a run and return to the woods.

My heart is pounding and adrenaline is coursing through me as I crouch in the brush just past the tree line. I was so close. It not for that Eric, I would have had been in. Why is he taking such an interest in Sookie? Is he interested in a relationship with her? I'm sure he can't be fucking her already, she just moved in.

Vowing to think it over, I rub my semi-hard dick with regret. I was so close, but I can wait.

I vowed to be patient and will wait as long as it takes to get my hands on what I want.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**Sookie's POV**

I awake the next morning with Eric on the brain. Not work. Not school. Not coffee. Eric. Ugh, what's wrong with me?

I heave a sigh as I slide out of the bed and pad to the bathroom.

Sure, Eric is hot, I'll give him that, but he's involved with someone else. I've always been a one man kind of woman and expect the man I'm with to be one woman kind of man. But Eric and I weren't involved, not yet at least. Could it be that I was being unfair to him? He doesn't owe me anything but did offer to explain. And lunch doesn't mean he wants us to be together. I have lunch with friends all the time. But it was the kiss! What was that all about? That was not a "just friends" kind of kiss.

Determined to put Eric out of my mind for the time being, I throw my hair into a ponytail and pull on my Merlotte's uniform. Today is Saturday which means I'm due at Merlotte's at 10:30 for shift one of a double shift.

I have worked at Merlotte's for the past five years. Though being a waitress in a bar isn't he most glamorous of occupations, I am good at what I do and enjoy it for the most part. I remember being so excited the day Sam hired me. I didn't have much waitressing experience at the time and he really took a chance on me. I felt like he was putting his trust in me and wanted to do well for him. As it turns out, I'm good with people and was a fast learner, so it wasn't long before I was an old hand at waitressing and an asset to Sam.

Finishing up in the bathroom, I pour myself a cup of coffee and walk out to the deck. There's just something about looking out into the woods in the morning that I can't resist. I lower myself into the chair gently and breathe deeply to fill my lungs with fresh air. What a beautiful morning! I gaze out into the woods and watch the leaves flutter in the morning breeze. Two birds fly past chirping. I can feel myself smile as I sip my coffee.

Only a minute goes by before I realize I'm looking at the woods very little and looking at Eric's a very lot. Maybe I should apologize and ask to hear his explanation? A flutter of the curtain in his kitchen startles me and I stand from my chair. Nope, definitely not ready for that.

As I head inside, I decide to leave a early and take my coffee on the road. So I grab my overnight bag and purse before locking my apartment tight and heading to Bon Temps for the weekend.

xxx

Less than an hour later, I can feel myself tearing up as I pull into the parking lot at Merlotte's. Though it's been less than a week since I left Bon Temps, it feels like forever since I have been home. Feeling vaguely like an idiot for crying because I'm at work, I wipe my tears away quickly as I pull around the side of the building and park in one of the employee places around the back. I am a little early since I left to avoid Eric, and it looks like I am the first to arrive.

After checking myself out in the rearview mirror to make sure I'm not too badly damaged from the tears, I grab my purse, lock my vehicle, and head inside. I can feel a smile light up my face as I enter the building. I hadn't realized I was homesick, but it feels so good to be somewhere so familiar. I beeline to Sam's office to stash my purse and am not surprised to see him sitting behind his desk working on some paperwork. I smile at him before he realizes I'm there. It's so nice to be home!

"Good morning, Sam," I call from the doorway. He looks up, startled, and I watch as a smile lights his face. He rises and walks around the desk.

"Good morning, cher," he says, pulling me into a warm hug. I breathe in his familiar scent. "We've missed you here. How are things in Shreveport?"

I feel myself tearing up again and pull back from Sam's embrace. "Things are good. I've been trying to settle in but it's been a lot of work! I never realized how much stuff Gran and I accumulated until I was time to pack everything up, move it to the apartment, and unpack it. And I miss being here so much! It's harder than I thought it would be to be away from home." I hate that I can hear my voice wobble with the tears I am trying to keep at bay.

Sam pulls me back into his arms.

"It will get easier the longer you're away. Nothing is ever going to replace Bon Temps as your home, but you'll get used to it as time goes on."

"I hope so," I say, gently sliding out of his grasp. I run a finger under each eye to catch the tears before they fall. "I think the trip back this weekend is really going to help with the homesickness. Since I'm not quite done getting Gran's house ready for renters, I plan on staying there and tiding up. It will be nice to be back, if only for one night."

Sam gives me a strange look which only lasts for a second. Before I can decipher it or ask him what it was about, the back door opens. A moment later, Holly Cleary walks into Sam's office. Holly and I have worked together at Merlotte's for the past few years. I wouldn't say Holly and I were necessarily friends, but we are friendly, especially at work. That's why I'm not surprised when she throws her arms around me in greeting.

"Hey Sookie, welcome back!" she says, ending the hug and dropping her purse in the drawer of Sam's desk. "How are things in Shreveport? Is your new apartment nice?"

I put aside my homesick feelings and force on a smile. "Things in Shreveport are great and I absolutely love my apartment. It's definitely smaller than I'm used to, but it's just the right size for one and has so much charm. It even has this little deck on the back that looks out into the woods. It's definitely better than I expected!"

I let my mind wander as Holly starts talking with Sam about the most recent shipment and some drama with another waitress. In a town as nosy as Bon Temps, I'm sure I'm going to be asked all day long about Shreveport, and how I'm settling in there. I feel the forced smile tighten into place as I walk into the dining room to make sure my tables are all set up and have plenty of napkins and condiments.

This is going to be a long day.

xxx

Many hours, drinks, and burgers later, Merlotte's is finally closed. I could swear that half the town was in tonight, most of them to see me and ask me about Shreveport, though not one of them would admit it.

I sink into the nearest chair at the bar in relief, feeling my feet throb and my lower back ache. I am a bit appalled to realize how uncomfortable I am after my shifts. It's not easy to work a double, but I don't remember ever hurting this much in the past. Maybe I am still recovering from that night on the floor.

"Well you did it, cher," Sam says, coming back from the front door he'd just locked for the night. "Are you ready to do it again tomorrow?"

I raise my eyebrows in Sam's direction and smirk at him. "Of course, Sam. You know I love nothing more than working double shifts."

Sam laughs, "Of course you do. You're the envy of the town working like this. I have to beat off waitresses who are dying for the chance to work your schedule."

I laugh. "Are you sure you don't need any more help tonight? I can hang around for a bit if you need me."

"Nah, go on home. I know you are dying to see your gran's house. I assume you are going to be stopping by her grave as well?"

I nod my affirmation. "Absolutely, it's my first stop. Thank you for everything. See you tomorrow, okay?"

I nearly skip to Sam's office without waiting for an answer and grab my purse from it's place in Sam's desk. I call out a goodbye to the folks in the kitchen and head out the back door.

I stop dead in my tracks when my foot hits the pavement. Leaning against my car trying to look casual is the last man I wanted to see tonight – Bill Compton. I take a moment to study him from my spot in the doorway. As always, Bill is groomed meticulously. His long sideburns are neat and his dark hair is combed perfectly. He's wearing his typical khaki colored pants and a brown Oxford shirt. All in all, he looks just as I remember him, which is a little disappointing. I was hoping he would look prostrate with grief. I give myself a shake and force myself to speak.

"Bill? What are you doing here?"

I watch as he stands up straight and lifts his hand, as if to take mine. "I heard you would be back in Bon Temps today and decided to stop by. You didn't return my calls, sweetheart."

I can feel the irritation running through me and I force my feet to move toward Bill and my car. "You're here because I didn't return your calls? Did you maybe think there was a reason I didn't call back? You can't just come back, Bill. You left. You left town and left me. That's a pretty clear break up in my opinion."

I reach for the handle and open the door. Bill extends his hand and slams it shut. I look up into his eyes, stunned. He looks back at me with an emotionless gaze.

"You have to let me explain. It's not like I wanted to leave you. I had to for work. But it's okay now. I'm back, and we can be together again."

I can feel my skin crawl as he reaches a hand out to caress my arm. This is going way over the line. Our relationship is over and he's boarding on creepy. I smack his hand away.

"Stop it, Bill. We are DONE. You need to understand this."

He raises his hand and grabs my arm hard enough to shock me and make me gasp. He lowers his face to mine, so close I could have kissed him had I wanted to.

"No, you need to understand," he hisses at me. "You are mine and I'm not giving you up so easily."

In the light behind the bar, I can see an expression on his face I can't quite identify. It's almost feral and very frightening.

The back door of the bar bangs open.

"Sookie," Sam calls, as Bill releases my arm and steps away from me. "Is everything okay out here?" Sam drops the black trash bag in his hand and takes a step toward me. I look at Bill for a second more. The feral look is gone and he just looks like pain old Bill.

I clear my throat. "Yeah, Sam, everything's good. I was just talking to Bill. I'm heading home now."

I climb into my car under Sam's watchful eye and lock the doors. Sam steps back inside as I start the car. Instead of driving away, I crack the window to talk to Bill.

"I don't know what game you think we're playing," I say, "but it ends now. We are over, Bill. I'm sorry. But this is the way it has to be."

He looks down at me through the open window, a contrite look on his face. "I'm sorry, darling. I don't know how things got like this. I love you, Sookie. Please let me prove it to you."

I gaze at him a second more before rolling up my window and driving away.

Wow! Has Bill always been so crazy and I just missed it? I know that I wasn't on my game right after Gran died, but I don't remember him being quite that intense. I can't help but wonder what happened when he was on that business trip.

The drive from the bar to Gran's house takes just a couple of minutes. I can feel myself smiling from ear to ear as I pull into the driveway and see the familiar structures come into view. "Home," is all my weary brain can think, and excitement rushes through my body. I park my car around the back, in the soft glow of the security light. It's only been a few days since I was here, but I'm already wondering how I'm going to rent it. It's just not going to be the same without being able to come and go as I please.

I push my keys into my purse and hop out of the car, closing the door behind me. I'm going to visit Gran in the cemetery before I do anything else. The moon is full in the sky, so I leave my flashlight in the car and head out to see her.

Walking through a cemetery is scary for quite a few people, and I suppose I can see why. It's very quiet in the cemetery and it's easy to imagine people or ghosts hiding behind the grave markers. At night, especially moonlit nights like tonight, there are deep pockets of shadow that are easy to imagine being filled with the spirits of those departed. I've never been afraid of going in the cemetery. As a child, I used to play here with Jason and my gran, so it's just another place to me.

As I near Gran's grave, I grip the necklace hanging just out of sight under the fabric of my t-shirt. I reach behind my neck and open the clasp.

I can feel the tears streaming down my face when I arrive at her grave, but can't tell whether it's from sorrow or joy. I sit down by her headstone, completely disregarding my clothing, and reach out to trace the letters of her name with my fingers. I hold the pendant to my heart with my other hand.

"Hi, Gran. I've missed you so much. Shreveport is great, but it's just not the same as Bon Temps. I wish you could be here to see all that I'm doing, you'd be so proud of me. I'm starting school on Monday, can you believe it? Remember when I was younger and I used to dread going to school because all of the kids made fun of me? You almost had to drag me kicking and screaming to get me there some days. I always hated you for that, by the way. I just couldn't understand why my Gran, who I loved more than anything, would want to torture me like that. I didn't get it as a girl but I get it now. You had to make sure I did what was best for me even though it was hard. Now that you're not here to kick me in the behind, I have to do that for myself.

It's been really hard leaving you and Bon Temps behind but so far I've managed. I wish you could see my apartment, you would absolutely love it! It has one bedroom and the cutest old style bathroom, and even a little deck on the back. I've been thinking that I would like to put some roses on the deck so I can think of you and think of home whenever I'm out there. Maybe if I can really get them to grow, I can bring some for you. I was never as good at growing roses as you were, but I'm really going to give it a try.

Well, Gran, I think I need to get going for the night. I just worked a double for Sam and am ready to fall asleep right here. And as much as I would love to sleep so close to you, I'm pretty sure there's a name for people who sleep in cemeteries. But don't you worry, I will come by tomorrow and see you again. I lo-"

A sharp crack rings through the night and I stop cold, turning my head toward the noise. Was that a stick breaking? I stay still and quite for a moment and hear some rustling a few rows over from Gran. Cold fear runs through me as I realize someone or something is in the cemetery with me.

Moving as quietly as possible, I slip Gran's necklace into my shorts pocket and rise from the ground. Not even bothering to wipe the brush from my pants, I very quietly move several rows away from where I heard the noise. I start to quickly and silently make my way to the entrance of the cemetery, careful to stay off the path. I'm not sure if it is an animal or person that I heard, but I'm not taking any chances either way. Finally, after what seems like hours, I reach the edge of the cemetery.

I breathe a sigh of relief as I walk into the yard and over to my car. I'm not exactly sure why I'm relieved as whomever or whatever is in the cemetery can get into the yard as easily as I can, but something about being in the well-lit yard is comforting. Keeping an ear open just to be cautious, I jog to my car to grab my purse and overnight bag. I made a point to borrow an air mattress from Jason last week, which was in my bedroom and inflated just waiting for me, so I didn't have to pack the sleeping bag for this trip.

With a bounce in my step, all noises from the cemetery pushed to the back of my mind, I walk across the yard to the open porch. I settle my things on the porch and reach into my bag for the key to the back door. Looking down, I notice something on the ground that shimmers in the light. I kick at it slightly with my shoe. Glass? I raise my eyes back to the door and scramble off the porch, dashing across the yard to my car.

The glass in the door had been shattered.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Sookie's POV**

"Bon Temps Police Department, this is Kenya."

"Hi, Kenya, this is Sookie Stackhouse."

"Well hi, Sookie. I didn't expect to hear from you, I heard you'd moved out to Shreveport. What can I do for you tonight?"

"I did move to Shreveport for the most part but I'm staying at Gran's for the night. I just got here and it looks like someone might have broken in. The glass in the back window is broken."

"Is there anything missing?"

"I don't think so since there really isn't much in there but I haven't gone in to look yet. I'm not sure when the window was broken and didn't want to go waltzing in if there was still someone inside."

"Well that was a good thought, where are you now?"

"I'm sitting in my car at the back of the house."

"Well hold tight. I'm going to send Kevin over to you. He's here in the building so he should just be a few minutes."

"Thank you, ma'am. Bye." The phone clicks in my ear signaling the end of the call.

Well this was certainly an awful way to end a long and hard day. I can feel my feet throb anew as I focus my eyes on the back of the house and my bag still sitting on the porch. Why in the world would someone want to break into Gran's house? Gran had never been a rich woman, and neither had I, so there wasn't really much we owned that would be of value to criminals. And with me moving to Shreveport, this house was virtually empty. Whatever they were looking for, I have a feeling they were sorely disappointed by what they found.

I am pulled from my thoughts by the sound of a car coming up the drive way. I didn't realize how tense I was sitting out here alone until Kevin's police cruiser comes around the side of the house. I open the door and slide out of my car just as he slides out of his.

"Hi, Kevin," I say, smoothing my hands over my shirt and shorts in an attempt to iron out the wrinkles.

"Hi, Sookie. Kenya said that someone might have broken into your house?" I watch as he pulls a note pad out of his pocket.

"Yeah, that's what it looks like. I haven't been here since Thursday since I just got an apartment in Shreveport. I went straight to Merlotte's when I got into Bon Temps today and this is the first chance I've had to stop by the house. The window in the back door is broken. I'm not sure if this is something that happened a while ago or just a few minutes ago so I didn't go in. I didn't want to walk in on someone trying to rob me."

"Alright," he says, taking a moment to jot on his notepad. "Let me go check it out. Stay put here until I come and get you. Is the door unlocked?"

I shake my head and extend the hand holding the key. I watch as Kevin takes it from me and walks through Gran's well-lit backyard. He unlocks the door and steps inside, flicking the switch to turn on the kitchen light. It occurs to me that maybe I should follow him into the house. Didn't cops always have back up when they went into places where a criminal may be hiding? I take a couple of uncertain steps toward the door then stop myself. Nope, this isn't for me to decide. This isn't Kevin's first day on the job. If he needs back up, he would have made sure he had it. Still, I pull my phone out of my pocket and hold it in my hand just to be cautious as I watch Gran's house light up room by room. Finally, after the light in the attic comes on, Kevin comes out of the house. I slip my phone into my pocket with a quiet sigh of relief.

"So what's the verdict?" I call as he walks across the lawn toward me. His face doesn't look happy, but he's alone, so certainly things couldn't be all that bad.

"Well, there's good news and bad news. The good news is that whoever was in there is long gone. The bad news is that there's some damage to the house."

I grab his arm without thinking about it and look at him intently. "Damage? What kind of damage?"

"It looks like someone pulled up some flooring in a couple of the rooms. The drywall has holes in it in a few places and there is a window or two broken in there."

I look at him blankly for a moment as his words sink in. Why would someone do all that to Gran's house?

He gently shakes my hand from his arm. "If you don't mind, I really need for you to go in and take stock of everything. I need to know if anything is missing for my report. From what I can see, there wasn't much left to take, but you know better than I would what was here and what you've already taken to Shreveport."

"Yes of course," I reply, mind snapping back to the task at hand. "Let's go take a look."

I feel sick with dread as I walk across the lawn to the back porch. I pause for just a moment at the back door before throwing it open and gazing in at the familiar kitchen. Beside the fact that all of the cabinets and drawers are open wide, it looks pretty much how I left it a few days ago. The knot of dread in my stomach eases up just a bit as I circle the room to close the cabinets, taking quick stock of the few items I knew were here. Right where I left them are the paper plates and plastic utensils I'd left behind just in case. I take note that the cleaning supplies and garbage bags are still in their place under the sink.

"Everything looks good in here," I say to Kevin. I wander out of the kitchen and down the hall as he jots a note down on his pad.

I head toward the room that was Gran's when she was living and mine when she passed away, and stop dead in the doorway. When Kevin said there was some damage, I really hadn't imagined anything like this. In three places around the room, the old floor boards had been pulled up and tossed to the side and the subfloor had been sawed through. Though I'm not able to tell for sure from where I'm standing, I am willing to bet that I can look right down to the ground underneath the house from those holes. The walls of the room look like someone attacked them with a hammer. There are holes both big and small across every wall. Insulation had been pulled through several of the holes and in a couple of places I think I might be able to see right through to the darkness outside. Debris from the dry wall and insulation cover every inch of the floor and it looks almost like someone put their fist through the window. But even with all the damage, the thing that really pierces my heart is the sight of my highly anticipated air mattress lying on the floor in ribbons.

I can feel the blood drain from my face and I grasp the door jamb in shock. Not only did someone break into Gran's house and damage it viciously, but I am going to have to fix all of this with no time or money before I can rent it out.

"You okay?" I hear Kevin ask behind me and turn to face him.

"Yeah, it's just worse than I thought it would be, I guess. Why would someone do this to poor Gran's house?"

"It's hard to say. This room really seemed to get the brunt of the damage. It's impossible to tell if this was a burglary gone wrong or if someone did this to target you or your family. I really think we have to consider that this might have been a personal attack aimed at you, Sookie. I've never seen a burglar damage a house like this just because there wasn't anything in it to steal."

Me? Really? All this could have been because of me? Who could have wanted to hurt me so much that they would wreck Gran's house? It had to be someone who knew me fairly well to know that an attack on Gran's house would have hurt me more than nearly anything. I push that thought aside to think of later.

"You said that this room got the brunt of it? There are other rooms damaged as well?"

"Yes, but none as bad as this."

"Okay, let's see them."

I let Kevin lead the way out of Gran's room to see the rest of the house. Though definitely damaged, the rest of the house wasn't nearly as bad as Gran's room had been. In the room across the hall from Gran's, my room as a child, I found the floor in the closet torn up and a portion of the wall hammered out. The front living room hadn't suffered any visible damage, but the steps to the rarely used second floor had several boards removed on each riser. Upstairs, the floors in two of the bedrooms had been torn up. I wasn't able to see down to the first floor by looking into the holes on the second which was a relief after seeing Gran's room. The attic hadn't suffered any damage, but the few boxes that remained had been emptied and their contents spread haphazardly throughout the room. Looking at the mess in the attic, I can feel the ball of dread in my stomach dissolve and anger take it's place. Why would someone do this to a poor old lady's house? She was dead for goodness sake, she couldn't defend it! Why couldn't they just leave Gran alone!

"Nothing missing," I snap at Kevin, turning to face him as he appears at the top of the stairs, "but that's about all that's alright."

If Kevin is startled by my burst of anger he doesn't show it. Instead, he ducks his head and jots himself another note on that stupid pad of paper. I am surprised to find that I want nothing more than to rip that pad out of his hands and throw it off the nearest cliff. I pull my hair out of it's ponytail and run my fingers through it in an attempt to soothe myself. I know it's not Kevin's fault this happened, he's just the one stuck dealing with the situation along with me. Finally, he looks up.

"Okay, I think I have all that I need for my report. I'm going to go down to the station to write this up. Are you working tomorrow? Can I bring it by Merlotte's for you to sign?" I nod my assent. "Great. Now where will you be staying tonight?"

I feel the anger lash up in me at his question. "I'm staying here for course," I nearly snarl. Kevin looks surprised at my tone and I have to admit I'm a bit surprised myself. I've never been one to outwardly express my feelings. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath before trying again.

"What I meant to say is I had planned to stay here. Do you think there is a reason I shouldn't?"

Kevin looks a little doubtful at my change of attitude. I mentally dare him to say something but he lets it pass by.

"I'm sure you'll be fine if you stay here," he says, closing his pad of paper and returning it to his shirt pocket, "but you might feel more comfortable staying with a friend. The house looks like it has been open for a few days at least. We didn't see any critters on the walk through, but you never know what might have crawled in and made itself at home over the last few days. You'll want to at least board up the holes to the outside if you're going to be staying the night."

"You're right, Kevin," I say almost sweetly. "I will call Sam and get him to help me do that. Thanks so much for coming over so quickly."

He looks at me steadily for a moment as if he wants to add something else but seems to decide against it. "I'm just doing my job. I'll let myself out and see you tomorrow at Merlotte's."

I watch Kevin leave the attic and listen to him make his way through the house. When I hear his car door slam, I sink to the floor, exhausted. I hear his car start and listen for the crunch of the gravel as he starts down the driveway. When I hear it, I allow myself a weak moment and let the tears to well up in my eyes.

Why is this happening now? How am I going to come up with the money to make all these repairs? Gran had never been wealthy and God knows barmaids don't rake in the cash, so I was really depending on the revenue from renting the house out. Now I was going to have to scrape together money to repair it before I could even offer if for rent. I let myself wallow in self-pity for just a moment longer then forced myself to pull it together. I'm exhausted and want nothing more than to lie down and go to bed, but there is plenty more to do before I can rest and I have to get to it.

Staying seated on the floor, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Sam's number. At least I can always count on Sam in a time like this. I listen vaguely to the phone ringing in my ear while I start a mental list of all of the things that need to be done. I am surprised to hear Sam's voice asking me to leave a message. The beep of the voicemail startles me.

"Uhh, Sam, this is Sookie. If you get this message in the next couple of minutes give me a call. If not, don't worry about it, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks."

I disconnect the call, the feel of dread returning to my stomach. What if Sam doesn't call me back? I glance down at the clock of my cell and was surprised to see it was nearly 3:30. Who could I call at 3:30 that would be able to come help me board up the house? I suppose the time waiting for Sam to give me a call back would be best spent coming up with a backup plan, just in case. I flip my phone open and pull up the contact list.

The first name that pops up as a likely candidate is Bill Compton. Of course, the last person I want to invite to my house is the first name I come across. Isn't that always the way it works? I put my disgust aside and really take a moment to consider Bill. Though the incident in the parking lot at Merlotte's earlier was unsettling, I really don't think Bill would harm me. I mean, he wasn't a good boyfriend, and I don't want to be with him, but he is still my neighbor and he would probably be willing to help me. I'm sure he's not going to be my first choice, but I can't count him out if I need someone.

I return my eyes to my phone and continue to scroll down through the contacts. I'm surprised to feel my heart rate increase a bit as I come across Eric's name. I roll my eyes at myself a bit. Yes, I've got it bad for Eric, but he's with some other girl. Not only is he with some other girl, he tried to lead me into starting something up with him. Definitely not the kind of guy I should be interested in. But I can't control how my body reacts when I think about him or see his name in my phone. I consider for a split second giving him a call and asking him to help me before dismissing the idea just as quickly. I might have a thing for him, but there was no way he was going to drive to Bon Temps at 3:30 in the morning to help his new neighbor board up her house. I scoff at myself a bit and move on.

The only other potential candidate I see is my brother, Jason. Jason has never been a very good or reliable brother to me but I like to think he would be there if I really needed him. Of course, I might just be fooling myself. I've never put Jason in a situation where he really had to help me. Glancing at the screen on my phone I can see that six minutes had gone by since my call to Sam. Well, now was his chance. I dial Jason's number quickly and listen to the phone ring. I wish I could say I am surprised when voicemail kicks on, but I'm not in the slightest. I love my brother, that's for sure, but he has a lot of growing up to do. I guess it's going to be Bill, then.

I dial Bill's familiar number. He answers on the first ring.

"Sookie? Did you call to get back together? Do you want me to come over?"

I can feel all of the muscles in my body tense up at the sound of his voice. My finger hovers over the button to disconnect the call and I nearly hang up on him. But I need someone. I have no other choice.

"No, I definitely don't want to get back together. But I was wondering if you could help me?" I am disappointed to hear the desperation in my voice.

"Of course, darling, whatever you need. You know I'll give you anything you want."

"Someone broke into Gran's house and really wrecked the place. There are two windows that are broken and a few holes in the floor that lead under the house. I was wondering if you could bring some wood and help me get things boarded up."

"Of course. Let me get some things and I'll be right over."

"Thank you, Bill," I say, relief flooding through me and I hang up.

I finally rise from my spot on the attic floor. I can't board up anything until Bill gets here, but there are surely things I can do while I wait. I turn off the light as I leave the room, resolving to leave the attic till tomorrow, and go all the way down stairs. I walk through the kitchen to the backdoor and flick on the porch light. I gaze out into the backyard for a moment before opening the door and grabbing my bag off the porch. I feel sadness wash through me as I grab the sleeping bag. I can't believe I'm going to be stuck sleeping in this thing again! I dump my bag on the floor to Gran's room and head into the kitchen to get a trash bag. I return to Gran's room and start filling the bag with drywall, wood, and other debris. The work is monotonous and I let my mind turn off as I bend, pick up trash, and put it into the bag. I'm startled out of my blank state by the sound of the backdoor slamming shut. I jump at least a foot off the ground as I freeze and listen.

"Sookie?" Bill calls from the kitchen and I relax instantly.

"In here, Bill," I call back, returning to my work. I can hear Bill putting his things down on the kitchen floor and making his way down the hall to Gran's room. I toss one last handful of debris into the bag and stand to face him. I am surprised to find him just inches away from me. Before I can open my mouth to speak, he puts one hand on either side of me on the wall immediately to my back and leans toward me. I'm exhausted and more than a little stunned by this development and his lips reach mine before I realize what he's after. I pull back from him immediately only to have my head meet the wall.

"Bill, stop," I mumble through the kiss. Rather than stop, Bill tries to slide his tongue into my mouth and moves forward, pinning me against the wall with his torso and holding my wrists in his hands. I try to twist away from him but can't. He was always very strong. I feel panic rise up in me but try to push the feeling away. This is Bill we're talking about, certainly he won't hurt me. Especially since he keeps saying he wants to get back together. I feel him extend a finger to brush the tops of my thighs just where my shorts end. Unpleasant chills run through me at his touch. Okay, this is getting to be too much. Making a quick decision, I open my mouth to let his tongue gain entrance and bite down the second it clears my teeth. He hisses and pulls away from me.

"I'm sorry," he says, retreating halfway across the room and raising his hands in front of him. I am secretly glad to see him raise a finger to his mouth to see if I had drawn blood. "I wasn't trying to start anything, you just looked so good. You know I love you, Sookie. It's so hard to resist you."

I look at him from my place against the wall. I should kick him out immediately. I knew it was a bad idea to call him in the first place but didn't really have any choice. I still didn't.

"It's okay," I say, gently rubbing my wrists where he had gripped them so tightly. "Let me show you want needs boarded up."

I gave Bill a quick rundown of the damage and show him to spots on the floor in Gran's room and the smaller room across the hall that need to be fixed. Working together, we board up the floor in twenty minutes flat and take another fifteen for the windows. Finally done, I sink down next to my sleeping bag exhausted.

"Thanks for all your help, Bill, I really appreciate you coming over."

"It's okay, sweetheart, you know I would do anything for you." I expect him to leave but he just stands there looking down at me. I regretfully rise from the floor.

"Well, let me walk you out."

I accompany Bill to the back door and hold it open for him. Rather than walking through, he reaches out to grab my hand. I pull away immediately but he reaches for it again. I figure it will be quicker if I let him keep it so I hold still. He looks at me with an intense gaze that makes me squirm and want to tug my hand away again.

"Are you sure you'll be okay staying here by yourself?" he asks, a sensitive and concerned look on his face. "You know that you can stay with me if you want."

I raise my eyebrows slightly at the suggestion. He's kidding me, right? The look he is giving me clearly says he's not.

"Thanks so much for the offer, but I'm going to have to decline. I'm really fine staying here. Thanks for coming over, though."

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Bill bows slightly, releases my hand, and steps through the door. I close it firmly behind him and lock it.

I make a quick sweep through the house, turning off all the lights that had been left on from earlier and double checking the locks on all the doors and windows. Once I'm satisfied that things are secure, I roll out the sleeping bag and lay on top of it, not bothering to get out of my work clothes. I look up at the familiar shadows on the ceiling and breathe in deeply in an attempt to relax myself. Before I have a chance to release that breath, I'm fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine **

**Sookie's POV **

Dreams took ahold of me that night. Horrible dreams where I was with Gran and just couldn't save her.

As the dream began, I was in Gran's house, upstairs, all alone. The sun was shining so I knew it was day, but I couldn't really get a good look out the windows to see what time of year it was. I was scared being alone and kept myself to the shadows, all the while trying to make my way to the kitchen. I just knew that if I could get to the kitchen I could see Gran and everything would be alright. After a long time of creeping around and jumping at every noise and shadow, I finally found myself right outside the kitchen door.

As I step inside the warm and comfortable room, Gran walks through the backdoor. She has a big smile on her face that lights her all up, and she smells her sweet, familiar smell of dirt, flowers, sunshine, and fresh air. With disbelief and joy written all over my face, I reach out to Gran and she gathers me to her.

"Gran, I thought you were gone. I'm so glad you're here. I love you so much," I cry out over and over again while she holds me to her and rocks.

"I love you too," she responds. "It's been so long."

When we are finally cried out, Gran and I start to talk. I tell her all about my life in Shreveport and that I am going to school. She is just as proud as I expected she would be. She tells me stories that I've heard a million times before and a few that are new. She tells me that she loves me, I tell her that I love her, and we spend the whole afternoon cuddled in the kitchen together.

It seems like time speeds up then, or Gran held me for hours. Either way, before I knew it, night had fallen and the house was dark. Gran had stilled in the darkness. Though she still held me, she no longer rocked. I heard a loud noise outside, almost a car door slam, and she releases me.

"They're coming, child," she says with some urgency, grabbing my shoulders and giving me a little shake. "You have to go now, you can't stay."

"What? Gran, I won't leave you!" I tell her, but she pushes me toward the door to the hall.

"You've got no choice in this," she says, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she guides me across the room. "I was selfish. I shouldn't have kept you so long. Go on now. I have to let them in. I don't have any choice."

Chills run through me and I jump a foot in the air as a knock echoes through the house.

"Coming," Gran calls instantly, releasing me and turning toward the door mechanically.

"No," I cry, grasping her arm tightly and pulling her toward the hall. "Gran, please don't. Stay with me, don't let them in."

I see a flicker in her eye and I hope for a moment that she will come with me and all will be well. But instead she looks at me blankly. The knock again reverberates through the house.

"Coming," she calls again, turning away from me.

"Gran, please," I cry with all my heart, "I love you."

She pauses for a moment at the door and turns to look at me. The blank look was gone from her eyes. "I love you too," she says with a sad and quite smile. "But this is something I cannot change."

Intent on staying with Gran but terrified of what might be beyond that door, I refuse to leave the room. I sink into a corner and watch in horrible fascination as the door swings open. Behind the door there is a raging storm. Into the house and out of the storm walk a man and woman. They looked ordinary enough and rather non-threatening. But try as I might, I can't see their faces. Faces or not, these are just people. Why in the world was I so scared of people?

I watch calmly from the corner as Gran greets her guests and sits them at her table. She is very hospitable while she serves them tea. When Gran turns to the counter to get some cookies, I watch in horror as the man puts something in her drink. I know without a doubt that it's poison. If she drinks it, she will die.

"Gran," I call from my place in the corner, trying to warn her before she drinks, but she can't hear me. The man does, though, and his non-eyes look directly at me, almost as if he's trying to pin me in the corner. He rises from his seat at the table calmly, but I have no doubt he is coming for me. Without thinking twice and without waiting to see if Gran drinks her tea, I dart from the corner and run through the house.

No matter how quickly I run and no matter how long I labor, I don't seem to get very far in my flight. After running for what feels like hours, the I'm only as far as the living room and the man is gaining on my with every stride. He finally catches up to me as I reach the stairs, and sends me falling face first into the risers as he grabs my ankles to stop my assent. I fall painfully but I've not succumbed to the pain. I'm determined to fight as long as I have fight left in me.

As I turn to face the man, he raises what looks like a wooden post. The lighting on the staircase is almost non-existent but I strike out at him and manage to dig my nails into his face. He cries out in pain for a moment before lowering his bleeding face to mine. I can feel his whiskers as he moves his mouth to my ear, rubbing his cheek along mine in the process.

"I'll kill you," he rasps in a voice that could be familiar to me. I watch in horror as he raises the post before bringing it down on my head.

Everything goes black.

xxx

"Hello?" I croak into the phone, trying to ignore the throbbing in my head as I fight a losing battle for wakefulness. My eyes squint against the sunlight streaming into the room. Guess I forgot to close the curtains. I let my eyes drop shut.

"Cher?" says a vaguely familiar voice on the other end of the line. Cher? Is that me? My muddled brain assures me that it is not so I drop the phone to my side and let sleep pull me under.

Not ten seconds later the phone rings again. Well crap.

"Yes?" I mumble into the receiver, not bothering to open my eyes.

"Sookie? It's Sam. Are you okay?"

"Hmm?" I mumble, stretching my body gently and feeling sore muscles protest. Why am I so sore? I turn my face away from the light and feel dizziness and pain wash through my heavy head. I hear myself moan a little at the pain.

"Sookie?" an alarmed voice says in my ear. "Are you okay? What's going on? Are you at Gran's? Do I need to come over there?"

Something clicks into place in my groggy mind. "Sam?" I ask weakly, fighting against nausea from my throbbing head and the pull of sleep my body is so desperately seeking.

"Talk to me. Are you hurt? What's happened?"

Huh? Did something happen? I force my weary mind to think but come up blank. I don't think anything's happened.

"No," I say. I can hear Sam talking again but let my mind drift closer and closer to sleep.

"Sookie! Answer me!" Sam booms into the phone. My eyes pop open and everything slides into place. All the events from yesterday come back to me. Working at Merlotte's, the destruction in Gran's house, Bill coming over, the horrible dreams. Most importantly, I'm late for work!

I sit up quickly on my sleeping bag in the middle of the floor in Gran's room. I hardly have time to realize I never actually made it into the bag before my whole world goes blurry and nausea washes over me. I spring up from my makeshift bed, ignoring the dizziness brought by my pounding headache, and dash for the bathroom. It's a good thing Gran's bedroom has a bathroom attached or I am certain I would never had made it. After ridding my stomach of it's contents, my headache is down to a gentle thud. Though I wish it didn't hurt at all, I know that it could be much, much worse. For example, if I was hit over the head with a wooden post. I take a moment to say a quick prayer of thanks that I had only been dreaming as I grab my overnight bag. Though I didn't take the time to look at the small clock on my cell phone, I know for a fact I'm very late.

I feel grimy and greasy from working and cleaning the night before but don't have time to shower. Instead, I strip off my wrinkled clothes and kick them to a corner of the bathroom while I wipe down the important parts of me with a wet washcloth. I dig through my overnight bag quickly but can't seem to locate my hairbrush. I do come up with my toothbrush, though, and take a moment to rid my mouth of the sickening taste of vomit and morning breath. Lotion comes out of the bag next and I quickly smooth it over my arms and legs in an attempt to improve my scent. Despite all my searching, I can't seem to find my hairbrush and end up combing through my hair with my fingers and tossing it into a high ponytail. I take a quick look at myself in the mirror and realize I look a mess but there's nothing I can do about it now. Maybe one of the other waitresses will have a brush when I get to work.

I grab a fresh Merlotte's t-shirt and pair of short and throw them on quickly. I start to pull on my shoes when a pounding on the backdoor startles me. I heart stops for a moment but I recover quickly. Cursing a bit at the start and dropping my shoe to the floor, I fly from the bedroom and into the kitchen, resisting the urge to look for signs of Gran. I am surprised to see Sam on my back porch.

"Sam!" I gasp in shock, throwing the door open. I step aside and Sam comes barreling into the house. I look at him in surprise, my thoughts still dulled from the headache and sleep. What in the world is Sam doing here?

"What happened? Are you okay?" Sam asks, grasping my shoulders with his warm hands. I shake my head slightly as I watch his eyes dart around the room then run up and down my body. His hands travel from my shoulders and down my arms. I look at him in surprise but he's not looking at my face. His eyes are alternating between his hands on my body and the room around us.

"Sam, what are you doing here?" I ask with true alarm in my voice. Sam doesn't answer. Instead he continues his vigilant search. When his hands reach my wrists I start a bit in discomfort. He grasps my hands and raises my arms slightly, putting them just in his line of sight. His eyes and mine both gaze down to see my bruised wrists. What can only be described as a growl emits from somewhere in Sam's throat and I gaze stupidly at the dark smudges. Now where did those come from? My mind flashes back to last night. It only takes me a second to remember the bad moment with Bill and I pull my hands free from Sam's grasp.

"Who did this to you?" Sam growls at me, reclaiming my right hand and lifting it to take a closer look. I try to pull away but Sam is stronger than he looks and won't let me go. He gently caresses the bruise circling my wrist, pressing from time to time as if searching for broken bones. It's a bit sensitive, but nothing to get all torn up over.

"It's nothing," I say gently, laying a hand on Sam's face and guiding his eyes up to meet mine. I am surprised by the intensity of his gaze and feel almost drawn into him. I blink a couple of times to free myself. "Nothing is wrong. Why are you here?"

Sam releases me and I left my arm fall to my side as he runs a hand through his messy strawberry hair. He looks a bit sheepish for a moment.

"Well, you were late," he begins, "and I called. But you wouldn't really talk to me. I was worried. I thought something bad happened to you." His eyes were lowered to look at his feet and I could swear I saw a blush spreading from his collar up to his face.

"Sam, I'm so sorry! I had a bad night last night. The house was broken into and vandalized and I had to stay up late patching things up so I could even stay here. By the time I got to sleep it was almost time to get up again and all I did was toss and turn with bad dreams. I'm just not feeling myself today. I just woke up when you called. My head was hurting me so bad it made me sick and I dropped the phone and forgot you were even on the other end. I'm sorry to have worried you. Forgive me?" I force my mouth to quirk up into half a smile and hold an arm out to Sam for a hug. After a moment, he steps into my embrace.

"Of course I forgive you," he says, breathing deeply and inhaling my scent. All too aware of my lack of shower, I step away quickly. "Just don't worry me like that again! I thought something horrible had happened to you. You're never late."

"I know it. But there's a first time for everything," I laugh.

Sam smiles but doesn't laugh with me. Instead, he says, "What is this about vandalism?"

I can feel the smile fall from my face. Of course he would want to bring up the one thing that I was trying my best not to think about.

"Someone broke into Gran's house sometime in the past few days," I say, keeping my face as still and emotionless as possible. "There wasn't really anything to take, but they did damage the house some. Kevin says he's never seen anything like it and seems to think it might have been an attack aimed at me." I clear my throat uneasily, hoping against hope that he'll just let that personal attack thing pass by. I watch Sam's eyebrows rise in disbelief and can see he's not letting anything go. Looks like that hoping was for nothing.

"A personal attack?" he says, incredulous. "Sookie, are you in some kind of trouble?"

I give a short laugh. "Not that I know of."

Sam grabs my shoulders and gives me a gentle shake. "Is now really the time to be fooling around?" he asks, eyes glistening with some emotion I can't quite identify. "This is serious. Someone might be trying to hurt you!"

I can feel the angry rising in me and wrench out of his grasp. "Of course I know that, I'm not an idiot," I declare, hot tears burning my eyes. "What do you want me to do? Hide away under a rock? Truthfully, Sam, no one knows why the house was vandalized. I'm not going to stop living my life just because someone broke into Gran's house when I wasn't even here and roughed up the place. That would be a little ridiculous, don't you think?"

Fighting the tears that wanted desperately to fall I turn my back on Sam and stomp to Gran's room. I guess I could understand Sam's concerns, but I didn't expect that kind of reaction from him. Sam and I had been friends for years. I thought he knew me better than to think that I would turn tail and run at the first sign of trouble, especially where Gran is concerned. She loved her house and was so proud to call it home. I wasn't going to abandon it and hide just because some idiot ripped up a few floorboards.

I pull on my shoes quickly and search out something for my headache while I listen to Sam make a quick trip through the house, taking in the damage. I can almost hear his agitation increase as his foot falls travel from room to room. Finally I hear his shoes on Gran's floorboards and turn to face him.

"I'm sorry," he says, his face reflecting his sincerity. "This must've been why you called me last night. I wish I could have been here for you."

I nod my affirmation, careful to keep my eyes away from his. I know from experience that all it will take is the caring look in his eyes to start me crying and the last thing I need right now is tears.

"Are you okay?" he asks, moving toward me and reaching out as if to grab me.

I clear my throat lightly and step away, brushing my face gently to ensure the tears stay in their place. "Of course. Let's get to work."

I brush by Sam on my way out of Gran's room and am glad to hear him follow behind me. I know he's upset about what happened to Grans' house and how I might be implicated, but I don't want to think about that now. I'm tired and don't feel well and just want to get my day started and finished as quickly as I can.

I usher him into the yard and lock the backdoor behind me before climbing into my car to heading to work.

xxx

Though I arrived at work over an hour late, my day at Merlotte's turned out to be pretty typical. Sundays are generally slow in the bar since many people choose to spend the day in church or with their families. We do have some regulars, though, who come to drink no matter the day of the week. This Sunday, of course, I managed to see all of them.

I worked my assigned hours in the most efficient way I could, with a smile pasted on my face and my normal attentiveness to my tables. But my mind really wasn't on the job. Instead, it was on Gran's house. Who in their right mind would have vandalized a house like that? I've definitely heard of people being robbed and even heard of windows being broken or fires intentionally started, but what would be the point of pulling up floor boards and ripping open walls? Kevin said he thought it might be a personal attack on me. I know I am not perfect, but who do I know that could be such a violent enemy? And what could I have done to make them mad? If anyone had a problem with me they hadn't told me about it. Maybe Sam was right to be worried.

xxx

When Merlotte's was finally closed for the night, I grabbed my purse and bolted to the door before Sam can stop me. I'd asked Holly, the other waitress working, if she's mind doing my closing duties for the night. I wouldn't usually ask such a thing of Holly since she has a young son waiting for her at home, but I told her about what had happened at Gran's and she agreed.

Though I had tried to ignore it all night, I couldn't shake the feeling that Kevin was correct in thinking that the vandalism of Gran's house was a personal attack on me. I don't know who would do something like that to me, and I don't know why, but right now all I wanted to do was go back to my relatively safe life in Shreveport.

I fly out the backdoor and through Merlotte's parking lot, saying goodbye to no one on the way to my car. After the incident yesterday with Bill, I was more than pleased to see that no one was waiting by my vehicle to detain me. My thoughts turn briefly to Bill as I open the door and slide behind the wheel. Is he someone who would be likely to hurt me? He's definitely upset with me. It's hard to think that Bill might be capable of such a thing, but maybe I shouldn't rule him out. Thinking it too much to deal with now, I push the thought away as I unlock the door and slide behind the wheel. I start the car and take just a moment to breathe deeply before leaving my parking space and making the short drive to Gran's.

I wasn't going to linger, that was for sure. Having spent the day fairly convincing myself that the attack on Gran's house was an attack aimed at me there was no way I was going to spend more time there tonight than I had to. I felt a pang of regret go through me as I thought of Gran's grave lying in the cemetery so close to the house and wished with all my heart I could visit it once more. But after the day I'd had and the night before, I really felt strongly that I leave right away.

In no time at all, I find myself pulling into the long drive way leading to Gran's house. The security light is on in the yard like usual and nothing looks amiss. Still, I am uneasy.

I pull around to the back of the house and turn off the car, locking the doors around me as I do so. I look around the darkened yard trying to sense movement of any kind. Seconds progress to minutes, but nothing out of the ordinary meets my wary eye. Finally, after nearly five minutes of staring to catch movement in the darkness, I pull the key from the ignition and dash from the car to the back door.

I slide the key home in the lock and fling open the door. I step into the kitchen and close and lock the door behind me. I am glad to note that the door was locked and the window unbroken, but what about the rest of the house? Holding my cell phone in hand, I zip through the house to take stock of all the windows and doors. I breathe a sigh of relief when I realize everything is as I had left it that morning. Without wasting a second, I step into Gran's room to gather my things.

A knock at the backdoor reverberates through the house, taking my breath away and setting my heart racing. The sound triggers a memory within me that is just out of my reach and I freeze for a moment trying to reclaim it. Realizing the memory is gone, I focus on the matter at hand. Someone is at the door. Should I call the police and have them see who's in my yard? It's a good idea if it's someone who means to harm me and a bad idea if it's a friend. I hesitate in my decision a bit too long and another knock resounds through the house. It must be a friend. A criminal wouldn't knock. Certainly they would just come on in.

Taking a deep breath and steeling myself while pointedly ignoring my pounding heart, I step out of Gran's room and head down the hall to the kitchen. I am somewhat relieved to see Bill at my backdoor. Sliding the cell into my pocket I open the door but don't move aside so he can come in. This is not the time for a long visit, especially from Bill.

"What do you want?" I ask, the weariness evident in my voice.

"Good evening, darling," Bill responds, reaching for my hand. Too tired to care, I allow him to lift it to his lips and place a soft kiss on the knuckles. "I just wanted to come to see how you were doing and make you an offer I know you'll accept."

"I'm great, just trying to get out of here. So please say what you came to say so I can go." I can see the anger flash in Bill's eyes for a moment before they return to their typical placidity. I know I am being rude but I don't care. I still have a long drive ahead of me tonight and can think of nothing but getting away from this house and getting into my warm, soft, comfortable bed. I start for a moment at the realization I'm dying to leave Gran's house, but let it go by. I just don't have the energy to deal with that now.

"Of course, sweetheart. I just wanted to talk to you for a moment about the damage to the house. I have a friend a couple of towns over who is a contractor. We've been friends for years and he owes me a favor. I talked to him today about your house and the damage and he's agreed to fix the floors and the walls for you at no charge as a favor to me. He can do the windows too, if you want, but you'll have to pay for those. What do you think?"

I can feel my eyes brimming with tears and don't know what to say. Bill, of all people, trying to help me? After I'd made it clear we were broken up?

"Bill," I mumble, trying to keep the tears at bay, "I don't know what to say."

"Say yes," he says, with an easy smile. "Sookie, you know I love you. All I want to do is help you. Just let me do that."

"Okay, yes, I would love that," I say, stepping forward and letting him take me into his arms. I can feel the tears running down my face as his strong arms circle me. I only allow myself a moment of comfort before I turn away, mopping up my face with the collar of my Merlotte's shirt. I clear my throat trying to compose myself. "When can he come?"

"He can come out tomorrow if that would be okay? He said he could stop by my place and pick up my key to the house. He said it should only take an hour or two and then you'll be all set." I could feel my smile stretching from ear to ear. Gran's house was really going to be fixed! I didn't have to worry about paying for it or finding the time to come back her for the repairs. I glanced at Bill and was surprised to see an expectant look on his face. Apparently he had been waiting for me to look at him. "Sookie, I have one more thing to ask you."

I feel the smile drift off my face and my back stiffen under his intense gaze. I force myself to blink away the tears. Whatever was coming, I want to be strong.

"I know that I haven't really treated you right in the past, leaving like I did and everything. I know you don't have to give me any sort of second chance. But I was wondering if you would just allow me to take you on one date. Just one. That's all I need to show you that I am a changed man. Please, Sookie? I love you."

I look into his eyes steadily, considering. My instinct was telling me to shut Bill out and be over with him now. He'd caused me too much heartache and too much pain and his erratic behavior of late was a bit unnerving. On the other hand, Bill was offering to call in a favor to save me some potentially expensive and time consuming repairs. That had to count for something, right?

"Alright," I concede, "one date. But that's it, I'm not committing to anything further."

"One is more than fine," he says with a smile, taking a couple steps away from me on the porch. "Would Tuesday work for you?"

I mentally consult my schedule and nod at Bill reluctantly. It can't be good that I'm already having second thoughts about this.

"Great," he says, "I'll pick you up at your place on Tuesday, around eight?" I nod my assent. With a smile and a nod of his head, he steps off the porch and disappears into the shadows.

I sigh as I close the door and return to gather my things. Well I guess that worst that can happen is that I discover I still don't want to be with him. At best, maybe things will work out.

I make quick work of rolling my sleeping bag and repacking my overnight bag. Since I got a late start that morning, there isn't really much out of the bag to pack back into it. I grab my clothes from the corner and automatically check the pockets of my shorts that I hastily stripped off that morning. I pull out my tips from the night before from one pocket and Gran's necklace from the other. I'm surprised, to say the least. With all the excitement, I hadn't missed it all day! I shove my clothes into the bag quickly and clasp the necklace around my neck. The familiar weight and presence of it calms me immediately, though I can't really explain why.

With one last look around the destroyed bedroom I pick up my travel bag as well as my sleeping bag and head out the door. I cross the yard to my car at nearly a run and can feel my heart thudding heavily until I'm out of town and on the interstate heading to Shreveport. I've never been thrilled to be away from Bon Temps in the past, but now I'm extremely glad I have a safe and secure apartment waiting for me in Shreveport. As the exit to Bon Temps disappears from my rearview mirror I can feel myself relax.

It only then occurs to me that I never gave Bill a key to Gran's house.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Sookie's POV**

I sink lower in the bathtub, relishing the sting of the hot water on my cool skin. As far as I'm concerned, there is no better way to relieve stress and think things over than to take a bath. And Lord knows, after falling into bed the last two nights without taking a proper shower, I could definitely use a bath. As I luxuriate in the warmth, I let my mind drift to the events of the past weekend. Particularly, this interesting development about Bill having a key. When did that happen?

I can honestly say I don't remember giving Bill a key to Gran's house. Is it possible that I gave it to him right after Gran passed without even thinking about it? I weigh that thought in my mind for a moment. I guess it's possible, but not probable. It just doesn't seem like something I would do, even when I was grieving about Gran. It definitely would have made my life easier if Bill could have come and gone as he pleased, but I value my privacy and Gran's property too much to give full access to someone I'd just met, even if that someone was Bill. I suppose I did, though. I just wish I could remember. I can't fathom how else he would have gotten it.

Certainly he wouldn't have made himself a key on the sly. Despite Bill's faults, he is generally a good man, and I just can't imagine him doing something that sneaky and underhanded. Even so, I think it would probably be best if request the key back when I see him tomorrow. It's not that I don't trust Bill. With nothing left in the house of value there's not really much damage he can do. But I would really like to be selective about who has a key to the house, especially since I plan to rent it out. There is just no reason at all for Bill to have a key since I'm no longer living in the house and we are no longer dating.

At the thought of Gran's house, I let my mind move to the repairs that should be taking place today. It was extremely nice of Bill to call in a favor for me. He really didn't have to do that but I'm very grateful that he did. He saved me a lot of time, money and grief. Accepting a date was the least I could do in return. I just hope he understands that my agreeing to the date was in thanks only and that I don't intend for this to be the first of many dates to come. As clear as I tried to make it, I'm not sure that Bill quite gets that, even if he said he did. I know from experience that once Bill has his mind set on something he wants, he generally won't stop until he gets it.

A chill runs through my body despite the warmth of the water at the thought. I hate to think of Bill setting his mind on having me. I don't know what he'll do once he comes to truly understand I don't want to be in any sort of relationship. No, that's not quite right. I do want to be in a relationship, but not with Bill. Completely unbidden, Eric comes to mind.

I let my mind drift to Eric for the first time in days. I like Eric a lot and have found it hard in general to keep my mind off him despite the fact that he has a girlfriend and should be nowhere near my thoughts. But what do I really know about him? I know he lives next door. I know he likes Chinese food. I know he is smoking hot and my hearts speeds up every time I think about him. I know he's a good kisser. And I know he seems to like me. But I also know that he's in a relationship of one sort or another with at least one other woman and I'm not willing to get between them no matter how much I think I like him. Even though that's the case, maybe I should have let him explain about the other afternoon? I don't owe it to him to listen, but maybe there is a genuinely good explanation for what I overheard? I purse my lips while I think. I'm definitely not going to go out of my way to pursue him, but if he asks to explain again, I think I might just take him up on the offer. Only on the off chance there is a good explanation, of course.

Pushing all thoughts aside and deciding I've had enough thinking and bathing to last me the day, I turn my bath into a shower to quickly wash my hair. After I'm clean from head to toe, I dry off, moisturize accordingly, combs through my tangled hair, and throw on the old pair of denim shorts and the white t-shirt I had set out before my bath. I plan to stay around the apartment today, finishing the unpacking and cleaning a bit, before heading off for class this evening. First things first, though – coffee.

I walk barefoot through the apartment to the coffee machine I had started in the kitchen before my bath. Since I had been gone for the weekend and it was all I could do to drag myself through the door standing the night before, I had completely forgotten to set the timer of the machine to start automatically. I had been sorely disappointed to wake up to no coffee. I grab a coffee cup from where I left it in the dish drainer and fill it to the brim with the bitter beverage. I contemplate for a moment enjoying my coffee at the table in the kitchen, but decide to Go outside while I can since most of the day will be spent stuck in the apartment.

I step out on the deck with my coffee, still barefoot, and settle into my little plastic chair. Though the evenings and mornings are getting cooler the closer we get to winter, this morning is hot, almost like a morning in the middle of summer. I take a sip of my coffee but it's almost too hot to drink in the warm and muggy morning air. I set the coffee cup on the ground near my feet and scoot down in my chair slightly, closing my eyes and stretching my legs out in front of me. I have always loved to lay in the sun and the feeling of the weak morning rays on my skin feel comforting and luxurious. Breathing deeply, I'm slightly disappointed to smell just the clean morning air. I really need to make it a priority to get some flowers out here. Maybe I will have enough time this afternoon to run to the store and see what they have blooming this time of the year. With winter coming the selection may be slim, but I'll take just about anything to spruce up the deck for the month or two I'll still be able to comfortably use it.

Lost in my thoughts about marigolds and roses, I miss the sound of the door to the next apartment opening and closing.

"Good morning," says a female voice nearby. I pop fully upright in my chair, nearly kicking the coffee cup, and glance around for the woman attached to the voice. I locate her slightly behind me, sitting on the plastic storage bench just past the railing. As if giving me a moment to study her, she smooths her pants as she crosses her legs, then proceeds to pick invisible pieces of lint from her light sweater. So this is the woman Eric's been dating? She is pretty, I've give her that, but she doesn't really look like the kind of woman that would interest a man like Eric.

Her light blonde hair is straight as a pin and arranged neatly around her shoulders. Her pale skin is smooth and unblemished and looks almost like delicate porcelain. Her dark blue eyes dominate her face, giving her a look of youth and innocence. At first glance she looks to be in her late teens, but I can't imagine someone Eric keeping company with someone so young. If I had to guess, I would say she's closer to her mid-twenties. In her pink twin-set and brown twill pants, she is the picture of innocence and propriety.

"Good morning," I reply after what feels like a long pause. Maybe I had studied her a little too intently? The woman lifts her eyes from their task of lint spotting and takes me in with an unexpectedly hungry look. I cross my legs against her voracious gaze. Maybe she's not as innocent as she appears.

"You're quite the pretty one," she says, with a smile that's almost predatory. I can feel my face flush under the intensity of her examination.

"Uhm, thanks," is the best that I can come up with, and all she does is smirk in response. Mentally kicking myself for my lack of manners, I try again. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I say, standing and extending my hand to hers to shake.

She takes my hand into both of hers and smiles at me sweetly. "I know," she says, squeezing my fingers with a strength I can't tell she possesses just by looking at her.

She holds my hand a bit longer than necessary. Just as I am about to rescue it from her nearly painful grasp, the sliding door behind her clatters open and out walks Eric in nothing but a pair of well-worn blue jeans, his hair still wet from the shower. My mouth drops open slightly and the woman barely conceals a laugh under a dainty sounding snort. I snap my mouth shut and snatch my hand from her grasp, feeling the heat rise in my face.

"How the fuck can you use so much hot water?" Eric grumbles at the woman without looking at her, setting two cups of coffee and his laptop on the table with some force. As I watch, he flips open the computer and pushes the appropriate button to start it up. "Every time you come over I end up with a cold shower. Not much is worse than a cold shower first thing in the morning. Next time I'm going to be showering first, I'm telling you that. At least I have coffee. Thank the gods for the coffee."

I watch the muscles in his arms and his back ripple as he lifts his cup to take a long sip. If that's how his body moves when his lifts a cup, I wonder how it moves during other activities? I banish the thought at once. Thoughts like that have no place in my head when it's another woman's man we're talking about.

As I come back to my senses, I realize the woman is watching me like a hawk. The smirk on her face tells me I'm staring at Eric a little longer than appropriate. Mortified by my inelegant response to his appearance, and right in front of his girlfriend no less, I clear my throat lightly and avert my eyes. Maybe I can slip back inside without Eric knowing that I'm here? I'm really not in the mood to get into any weird confrontations this early in the morning. I take a tentative step toward the door.

"Why don't you thank the gods a little later, Eric," the woman chirps in a voice that's somehow a mix between bored and intrigued. "We have company."

Great. There goes my plan for a quick escape.

I direct my eyes back toward Eric and watch him stiffen in his chair for a moment before whipping around to face me. I take just a few seconds for myself to notice the effect of the water droplets from his hair on his biceps before he stands with an abruptness that sends his chair halfway across the deck.

"Sookie," he says, walking to me with arms outstretched as if to take my hands in his. I steal a glance at his girlfriend but her face is blank. I fold my arms across my chest, effectively engaging my hands, and paste on a fake smile.

"Eric, how nice to see you," I say through my teeth. He stops just shy of the railing and lets his hand fall to his sides.

"It's good to see you too," he replies. "Where have you been the past couple of days? I've wanted to talk to you."

You're kidding, right? I cut my eyes to the woman. Her face is still blank. "I was out of town," I say, cautiously, my stomach clenching with nerves. Why is he trying to do right in front of his girlfriend?

His eyes follow mine to the woman and he looks back at me with a puzzled frown. "Well now that you're back, I was hoping I could take you to dinner. I still want to talk about what happened last week." I can feel my eyes widen. I cannot believe he's asking me to dinner right in front of his girlfriend. What kind of relationship are these two in?

"Are you kidding me?" I ask before I can stop myself. "I don't know what kind of game you're playing but there is absolutely no way that's going to happen." I glance at the woman, somewhat glad to see the ghost of a smile on her face. Well I would hope she would smile. I just shot down her scumbag boyfriend.

"I've got to be going now. Hope you guys have a good day," I say with a curt nod, stooping to pick up my coffee cup and turning toward the door. I catch one last glimpse of Eric's face as I head inside. I'm puzzled to see that he looks slightly horrified while the small blonde beside him laughs.

xxx

I spent the rest of the morning and the afternoon unpacking and straightening the apartment, but my day was far from quiet and smooth as the phone seemed to ring non-stop.

Bill called twice. The first time he called to update me on the progress of the house; the second, to confirm our date for the following evening. He wouldn't tell me where we were going. All he would say was that it was going to be a surprise and he was most certain I would like it.

Amelia called once to see how I was settling into the apartment and to find out how I was dealing with being away from Bon Temps. She was horrified to hear about the damage at Gran's and offered to send money for repairs. I declined.

My friend Tara called to update me on her pregnancy and ask about the rumors she'd heard about the break in at Gran's house. I was able to confirm for her that the house was broken into and that nothing was stolen as far as I could tell.

Sam called to see how I was doing since I bolted out of work so quickly yesterday. I assured him all was well and that I had just been tired and anxious to get home.

My brother Jason called to see why I called him Saturday night. I told him not to worry about it and invited him to supper. He said he would check his schedule and get back with me. I expect to hear from him on that sometime in the next month.

Eric called five times. I sent them all to voicemail.

xxx

I finish unpacking in time to get to the LSUS campus with over fifteen minutes to spare. With frequent references to my campus map, I manage to locate the proper lecture hall for my first college class ever – Psychology 102. Just being on the campus excites me and I waste no time in finding a seat. I take a quick glance around at the other students as I settle in and pull out my laptop. Though I can tell most of the other students are younger than I am by several years, I am not even close to being the oldest in the room and feel like I blend in pretty well.

That is, until Quinn walks in.

His eyes meet mine as he takes his place in front of the class and I can tell he recognizes me immediately. He gives me a little smile and wave and I raise my eyebrows in return. Of all the classes I could have taken and in all the time slots they were available, I had enroll in the one Quinn teaches. Like college wasn't going to be hard enough without my professor hitting on me. I could feel my excitement burst like a bubble.

"Good evening, students," Quinn calls from the front of the room, dragging his eyes away from me long enough to address the class as a whole. "Welcome to Pysch 102."

After a long hour and a half of listening and taking notes, Quinn dismisses the class. Though the class itself was fine and the course work seems like it will be interesting, the frequent looks Quinn shot in my direction kept me from being completely comfortable. Maybe I can work on my coursework at home and just show up for test days?

As I gather my things and prepare to leave, I notice Quinn walking my way. His eyes are locked on me and there is no mistaking his destination. Fortunately for me, one of the younger students in the class stops him half way across the room. He shoots a regretful look in my direction but steps aside to looks down at her and answer her questions. Seeing my opportunity, I waste no time in slipping past them and out the door.

Outside, the sky is dark. The only light available is emanating from the security lights placed periodically along the walkways. Though the sidewalks are far from deserted, I can't help but feel uneasy walking alone in the dark, so I walk as quickly as I can to the lot that holds my vehicle. I slide behind the wheel as I drop my purse in the passenger seat and don't waste any time starting the car. As I turn on the lights and back out of my space, I see a figure running into the parking lot at top speed. My lights glint on a bald head and I can barely make out the shape of Quinn standing on the sidewalk, breathing heavily from his run.

Now why would he be running through the campus in the dark? Please tell me he wasn't looking for me.

Realizing he hadn't seen me and deciding this is one question best left for another day, I guide my car out on to the street and turn toward home.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Sookie's POV**

I open my eyes to a dark and dreary morning. I really hope the weather isn't an indication of the day to come.

I burrow under the covers a bit and give in to the urge to close my eyes, just for a moment. There is nothing I want more right now than to close out the world and let the sound of the rain on the windows lull me to sleep. Unfortunately, I have way too much to do today to sleep in. I have two classes this morning, a date with Bill tonight, and still want to see about getting some flowers and maybe a nice chair for the barren deck in my empty afternoon.

But, I can't get to any of these things until I talk myself into getting up.

With a long suffering sigh and a moment of self-pity, I throw back the covers in one movement and sit on the edge of the bed. I rub my tired eyes as I yawn expansively. Clearly I'm still behind on my sleep after the rough weekend in Bon Temps. I stand and stretch, turning to quickly make up my bed, before I throw open the curtain to the wet world and force myself to leave my bedroom to start my day.

After a long shower, a generous amount of coffee, and a bit of makeup to hide the tired circles under my eyes, I grab an umbrella and dash out into the rain. My legs are wet from the barrage of droplets in moments, and I am thankful I chose to wear shorts today. I cross the parking lot to my car and nearly dive inside in an attempt to keep the upholstery, and my hair, dry. I am fairly successful in my effort and rather pleased with myself as I start the engine and head toward campus.

Less than ten minutes later, I park the car in the student parking lot and drag myself and my umbrella from the dry oasis. I'm glad that my first class today is in the same building as the bookstore. Since I've been there before, I don't have to try to juggle a map as well as an umbrella in attempt to get to the correct place. As I draw closer to the appropriate building, I realize the rain may be working to my advantage as it's far less likely Quinn will be lurking around the parking lot, or campus in general, in this foul weather. The thought almost brings a smile to my face as I step inside the building and head to class.

xxx

After a few hours on campus and two long lectures, I find myself heading through the rain back to my vehicle glad that the morning is over. I was planning on going to the store to see about flowers, but the long morning of attentive note taking and the soothing sound of the steadily falling rain have conspired to convince me that a nap might be in order. And I am starting to believe them.

After a long walk that completely soaks my bare legs, I am glad to finally arrive at my vehicle. Just as I am ready to repeat my diving performance from earlier in the day, I catch sight of something on the windshield. I let the door click shut and reluctantly take a few steps toward the front of the car to get a better look.

My vision narrows as my eyes slit, and I can feel my blood run cold even as my face flushes with confusion and anger. I grab the offending item from where it's been pinned under my wiper blade, being cautious of the thorns, and toss it into the grass near the pavement. With one last look, I scramble into the car and waste no time backing out of my space and navigating the rows of parked cars. It's only when I pull out into the flow of traffic that I realize I can hear my heart pounding in my ears and acknowledge how jumpy I actually feel. I take some deep breaths and try to calm my nerves enough to think.

Who would leave me a dead white rose? Better yet, who would leave Gran's favorite flower, dry and shriveled, on my car, parked in a sea of cars at a college campus on a rainy day? That is the question that unnerves me, and that is the one to which I need an answer.

Since classes just began, I don't know anyone on campus who would know I had class this morning and be able to recognize my car. In fact, there is really no one in my life who would have known where I spent my morning. Could this have been something innocent? Maybe a flower intended for someone else? Considering that the flower was dead, I think not.

But who would have done it? Who would know what I was driving, where I would be, and Gran's favorite flower? Maybe it's Bill? He's the only one I can think of who knows what I drive and what kind of flowers Gran loved. But he didn't know I was on campus this morning. Had I even told him that I was enrolled in school? Even if I had, why would you want to leave me a horrible reminder of Gran?

Could this be a threat? Considering the damage to Gran's house and the fact that the flower is one repeated many times in the flower beds at the Bon Temps house, I would almost bet on it.

I arrive at my apartment without remembering the drive and spring from the car like it's on fire. I glance at the spot on the windshield where I had spied the innocuous looking flower just a few minutes before. I feel suddenly exposed and vulnerable standing near the car and can't wait to get away from it. Slamming my door and ignoring the umbrella I can see through the window, I lower my head against the rain and start toward the building. The stresses of the past several days have added up and I can tell I am near tears as I walk. I try to talk myself into holding back the emotion until I get into the apartment but am not successful. As I near the sidewalk surrounding the building, I can feel the hot tears on my cheeks mingle with the coolness of the rain.

I charge through the front door and to the staircase, the tears coming harder with every step. I instantly start trembling from cold as the coolness of the air conditioned lobby meets my rain drenched body. By the time I arrive at my door, the trembling is almost convulsions and I struggle to get my keys from my pocket. I fumble to get the key into the lock, the blur from the tears and trembling from the cold working together against me. Without warning, a large hand covers my own and guides the key home. I look up in surprise, and find myself pinned under a gaze from intense blue eyes.

Eric.

I push open the door and dart inside, leaving it open behind me. I hear it click shut as I make my through the apartment and nearly slam the bedroom door as I storm into the room. Trying to get ahold of myself, I lean forward to place my hands on the hastily made bed and breathe deeply. My wet hair makes a cold curtain around my face and I feel alone and trapped with my emotions. After a minute or two, I am able to get my emotions under control. I can feel the sobbing subside and the trembling weaken, though the cold is still making my limbs weak and shaky.

In one quick and decisive movement, sick of feeling sad and weak, I pull my t-shirt over my head and slide my shorts down my legs. I am not going to let this get the best of me. Whatever that flower was supposed to mean, it's not going to ruin my life, even if it was a threat. Feeling limp and very fragile, I retrieve a towel from my closet and dry off slowly, still shaking from the cold but much more steady. I select from my wardrobe a worn pair of yoga pants, an LSU sweatshirt, and thick, knit socks and relish the warmth as I cocoon myself in comfort clothes. With one last towel dry of my hair, I pick up my brush and step out of my room.

I am quite surprised to see Eric standing by my front door, looking sheepish.

I feel the weak stirrings of anger start up inside of me but just don't have the energy to see them through. Instead, I turn and walk toward the kitchen.

"Would you like some coffee?" I ask over my shoulder, flipping on the light to illuminate the small room. I almost laugh to see his large body scramble across the room like a puppy going after a bone but just don't have the energy. I make quick work of adding coffee grounds and water to the machine, and flip it on with a practiced touch. I busy my hands and my mind with retrieving coffee cups, as well as milk and sugar. I invite Eric to sit as I arrange everything on the table, and try not to watch too closely as he folds himself into one of my low kitchen chairs. I sit in the chair next to him to wait for the coffee to finish, and lay my folded hands on the table.

"Sookie," he begins, reaching out a large, warm hand to cover my cool one.

"Stop," I command, more force behind my voice than I feel like I have in me. I slide my hand out from under his and stand to retrieve my hairbrush from the counter. I turn my back to him and start brushing out my long hair, taking a look at the coffee machine to see how far the coffee is from being done. I am a bit disappointed to realize that it is going to be a while. Maybe I shouldn't have invited Eric to stay after all? I still feel unsteady and am not sure I can stand to listen to weak explanations as to why it was okay to invite me to dinner in front of his girlfriend.

I feel a warmth behind me a moment before his hands land on my shoulders so I'm not startled at his touch.

"Sookie. Look at me," he commands. I contemplate refusing for a moment before I realize it's futile. We might as well do this now as any time. I take a moment to steel myself before turning to face him.

Only to be greeted by his lips crashing down on mine.

I relish the feeling of his warm, soft lips upon mine and moan into him as he deepens the kiss. My knees go weak and I can feel his arms slide around my waist to hold me to him and keep me steady. He raises his large hand to cup my cheek and caress my neck and I almost sigh at the sensation. And then I come to my senses.

Without a word, or warning to him, I pull back from the kiss, raise my hand, and slap across the face him hard enough to knock him back a few inches.

The sound of skin meeting skin resounds through the room and he looks down at me stunned. I push at his shoulders to get him to step back, and step away from him and across the kitchen.

"What the fuck what that?" he nearly roars at me from his spot by the counter. I'm not sure if it's the fact that I'm out of the rain, or the blood pumping through me from that kiss, but either way, I am no longer feeling weak and vulnerable. I swing around to face him and feel like I could shoot fire from my eyes.

"What do you think that was, Eric? What do you think you're doing here in my apartment trying to come onto me when I met your freaking girlfriend just yesterday! Do you think I'm the kind of girl what would take another woman's man? I may be a lot of things, but I'm not a whore." I see his hands clench to fists at his sides and his whole body twitches forward. I can see that he's working very hard to control his emotions. As suddenly as it came, I feel the fight go out of me and let my shoulders sag. "I don't have anything else to say to you. Please leave." I almost cringe at my rudeness, but hold myself back. This isn't my place to be a good hostess. This is his place not to be a jerk.

He stands still for a moment as if really weighing his options. I silently root for his smarter half to win.

"I can't go," he finally says, raising his hands as if to implore me to listen. "She's not my girlfriend. That's what I've wanted to talk to you about these past few days."

I give him a measuring looking, wishing I could read his mind. Is he telling me the truth? Is he really not in a relationship with that woman? I remember my vow from just yesterday to hear him out if he wanted to explain. Of course, that was before I met his girlfriend.

"There's nothing to talk about," I say, giving my head a little shake. "And I really don't have time for this now. Please leave." I look at him steadily and he looks back at me, very clearly not moving toward the door.

"Sookie, I –"

"Please leave," I say more sternly. He looks resigned for a moment before wiping all emotion from his face. I watch as he marches through the kitchen, into the living room, and to the front door.

"I'll let it go for now," he says, one hand on the knob, face completely blank, "since I can see you're upset, but it is imperative we speak about this, whether you want to get with me or not. Can I give you a call later?" I give him a long look, considering. I guess I can't really see the harm. Especially since he's can't kiss me over the phone.

"Alright," I concede. "We'll talk later."

He steps out into the hall and I lock the door behind him.

I return to the kitchen to check on the coffee and realize I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. What could Eric possibly want to tell me about his girlfriend (or not girlfriend as the case may be) that's so important? I really can't imagine anything that I might want to know. With no effort at all, I let the thought dissolve from my mind. I guess I'll find out more when Eric calls later.

Since looking at flowers doesn't sound nearly as appealing now as it did this morning and napping is sounding better and better, I decide to stay in for the afternoon. I turn off the coffeemaker, somewhat reluctant to leave the full pot, and flip the switch to turn off the kitchen light on the way to the living room.

The apartment is dreary, quiet, and cool, and the rain pattering on the window is extremely relaxing. Doing my best to remove the morning far from my mind, I stretch out on the couch and pull Gran's old afghan from the back. Warm and relaxed, I listen to the sounds of the air conditioner running and the rain falling until I'm sound asleep.

xxx

I wake up randomly in the afternoon after sleeping a couple of hours. I'm not sure at first what woke me, but quickly realize it was my growling stomach. With a yawn, a stretch, and the realization I feel much better after a nap despite the continued dreariness, I walk into the kitchen to find something to eat. After popping some leftover chicken into the microwave, I retrieve my phone from it's place in my purse. I'm not too surprised to discover I have two voicemails. I dial the appropriate number and password to retrieve my messages, and turn on the speakerphone to listen to hear what they say. Bill's voice fills my small kitchen.

"Hello sweetheart. I wanted to call to tell you how excited I am for our date this evening. Thank you so much for giving me a second chance. I also wanted to tell you that I plan to pick you up around seven. I'm going to take you to dinner and out dancing afterward, so dress accordingly. I can't tell you where we're going, though. That's going to be a surprise! I love you, Sookie, and can't wait to see you." Dancing? That's definitely not a typical date scenario for Bill. A recorded voice informs me that there is no more to the message. As the next message prepares to play, I glance at the clock. It's only 2:00 so I have plenty of time to get ready for Bill.

"Sookie, it's Sam. I really hate to ask you this, but I was wondering if you'd be available to work Thursday evening? Holly's cousin passed away and she's going to be leaving town tonight for the funeral. She won't be back until Friday. None of the other girls are available to work. I know it would be a long drive for you and you're busy with school and all, but I could do it I would really, really appreciate your help. Please give me a call back." As I delete the message, I mentally review my schedule. I have a couple of classes Thursday morning but nothing in particular scheduled for the evening. I don't have classes on Friday, so maybe I could just stay in Bon Temps that day? Then I would already be there for the early part of my double shift on Saturday. It wouldn't be an ideal situation, but Sam really needs the help and I could definitely use the extra money. Making my decision, I pick up the phone and dial Sam's cell number.

"Sam Merlotte," he says, on the second ring. I can hear some laughter and clinking in the background and assume he's in the bar.

"Hi Sam, it's Sookie. I just got your message."

"Sookie, thanks for calling back. So what do you think? Would you be able to cover the evening shift on Thursday?"

"Yeah, absolutely, I would be happy to help out."

"Thanks so much, cher! You don't know how much I appreciate this! I really have to go now, I'm bartending, but I'll see you on Thursday."

"See you," I respond, as the phone disconnects in my hand. That was pretty quick and painless.

With several hours between me and my date with Bill, I spend some time engrossed in school work. I manage to get one and a half assignments completely finished before it's time to get ready.

After a quick shower to wash away the rain and my normal shaving and moisturizing routine, I brush on enough makeup to highlight my assets and take a curling iron to my hair. It can be a lengthy process to curl all of my hair since it's so long, but once I'm done it's always worth it. Tonight is not an exception and I can't help but think how nice it looks curled around my face and down my back.

Once my hair and makeup are completed to my satisfaction, I turn my eyes to wardrobe. It's been so long since I've actually been dancing, I have no idea what to wear. After a long appraisal of my closet, I finally decide on a purple skirt, covered in lace, that hits me mid-thigh, a long white tank, and a black cropped jacket. I really hope to leave the jacket on, since wearing just a slim strapped tank can leave someone with my bust size looking awfully slutty, but realize it may have to come off at some point in the night if I get too hot. I think I can be okay with that. I pair my outfit with low-heeled black sandals and am all ready to go. Well, almost ready.

After one final appraising look at myself in the mirror, I remove Gran's necklace. I can't stand the thought of losing it in the hubbub of the dance floor and tuck in into my jewelry box for safekeeping. I replace it with a purple beaded necklace and give myself an approving look in the mirror. I actually look pretty good.

While I wait for Bill, I fill a small purse with the essentials – ID, house keys, some cash, lip gloss, and a cell phone. Just as I am zipping the purse, there is a knock on the door.

Despite my reservations about going out with Bill, I paste a smile on my face. It's a bit sad, but I feel almost determined to have fun at all costs. I swing open the door and find myself face to face with Bill. Before I can open my mouth to say hello, he steps into my apartment, gathers me up in his arms, and lowers his face to mine. Oh great. Apparently today is kiss Sookie day.

His lips are wet and cold against mine and his tongue is trying to do some unpleasant and slobbery things to me. He plants his hands on my hips and draws me toward him, letting me feel just how happy to be here he really is. I grab his wrists with my hands and step out of his grip. He doesn't look too happy about this development, but that's just too bad for him. This is not going to be happening. I raise my hand to my mouth to discretely wipe away his slobber.

"I know I agreed to a date, but not all dates start with a kiss," I say gently, trying to gauge Bill's reaction. I really don't want to upset him, especially considering his erratic behavior of late, but he doesn't look it angry. In fact, he looks a bit dejected, as if I just ran over his puppy or told him is best friend died. I frown in his direction and can feel my nurturing instincts rise to the surface. I take a step closer to him and lay my hand on his upper arm, rubbing gently.

"It's okay, though. It doesn't have to wreck things. We'll still have fun." He looks at me with a smile and slings his arm around me.

"Of course we can," he responds, "And maybe we can save the kissing for later." Somehow I highly doubt I will be saving any kissing for later, but I choose to keep that thought to myself. Instead, I grab my purse and let Bill guide me into the hall. Once I've made sure my door is closed and locked securely, we head down the stairs and out the lobby door. I am glad to see the rain has finally stopped and turn my face toward the sky automatically. I can actually see some breaks in the clouds and a few tiny stars peeking through.

"You look beautiful tonight," Bill says from close behind me. I force my eyes from the heavens and look into his face.

He looks sincere enough and isn't leering so I give him a smile. "Thanks. So you do."

I let him rest his hand on my back as he guides me across the small parking area toward his car. He moves to my side of the car with me as if to open my door, but I pull it open and slide inside before he has the chance. I slam the door behind me and wait patiently for him to figure out there's nothing left to be done on this side of the vehicle and come around the other side. After a moment, I watch as he settles into the seat and starts the car.

"So how did the repairs at Gran's go?" I ask, looking at his profile from my spot next to him as he backs from the parking place and starts moving forward.

"They went great. It only took a few hours to get everything fixed up and it looks almost as if nothing happened."

"Wonderful," I say, relaxing immediately. I hadn't realized I'd been so stressed over the repairs. "Thank you so much for all your help. I really appreciate it." I know what I need to say next but hesitate for a moment, catching glimpses of his face in the passing streetlights. Surely he wouldn't have snuck around to get a key to Gran's, right? What would be the point of having a key to an empty house? Taking a deep breath, I sternly tell myself to get on with it.

"Hey, Bill?" I ask, taking his glance as confirmation he is listening. "Could I have your key to Gran's, please?" His eyes cut to me sharply and he holds my gaze for a long moment. So long, in fact, that I'm afraid of his inattention to the road. I turn my eyes forward to look for upcoming collisions but see that we're okay. When I look back, Bill eyes are facing front.

"Sure," he finally replies, though his tone is anything but natural. "I'll come by next time you are in Bon Temps and get it back to you."

"Sounds good. I'm working a special shift for Sam on Thursday. Would you be able to bring it by Merlotte's between six and close?" He nods his affirmation and I look out the side window at the passing scenery. I remain silent for the rest of the ride.

After several more minutes of awkward silence, Bill and I arrive at the restaurant, a new Italian place in the heart of downtown. Dinner was fairly nice for me, but I don't think Bill enjoyed it too much. He has never liked Italian food and can't stand garlic and would pull a face every time he took a bite. Despite the grimaces and general dissatisfaction from Bill's side of the table, I managed to enjoy my meal and the restaurant in general.

After dinner, Bill ran off to the bathroom to brush the horrible taste of Italian out of his mouth while I waited in the car. It's times like this when I can see my wisdom in breaking things off with him to begin with. Not only can he be manipulative and a total jerk, he's also worse than a whiny child. If he didn't want to take me to Italian, he didn't have to. And if really wanted me to have Italian, he should have at least pretended to tolerate it! Hopefully he's not going to pout and groan about going dancing. Dancing is one of my favourite things to do on a date and I am determined to enjoy it despite Bill.

Ten long minutes later, he climbs into the car without a word to me and starts driving to our next destination. Apparently deciding he's had enough silence, he turns on the radio and treats me to some strange New Age music. Despite the silence from Bill and the weird music, I'm actually excited to be going dancing. If Bill's going to pout all evening, I'll just dance with someone else, that's not a problem at all. I can feel a smile turning up my lips at the thought. Whether or not Bill likes it, I'm going to have a good time. It's not like I went on this date to please him. It was merely a thank you. If he can't enjoy it then that's his problem.

I gaze out the car window and try to figure out where we're heading. The part of town we're in looks familiar to me, but I can't figure out where we might be going. The smile slides off my face when I see the sign.

Bill is taking me to Glasir.

"Bill," I say, breaking the silence and earning an irritated glance from him, "isn't there somewhere else you would rather go? Why would you want to choose Glasir?"

He pulls smoothly into a parking place and turns off the engine, sliding out of the car. "This is where I'm taking you," he says, answering none of my questions but apparently deciding the conversation is over.

I linger in my seat for a moment to buy myself some time. Of all the places in Shreveport, why would Bill decide to take me to the one Eric owns? Is this just a horrible coincidence?

I look in side mirror at the front of the building and am surprised to see Bill halfway across the parking lot. I guess that urge to get the door for me evaporated once we left the apartments. I let myself out of the car and jog across the expanse of pavement to catch up to him. The jogging is a little slower than I imagined it would be in heeled sandals, and I only catch up once he's at the door.

"Took you long enough," he nearly spits as me when I reach his side, and I look up at him in horror. What happened to the Bill who loved me and was excited to come out with me? I shake off my shock as I watch him pay our cover and glance at the scantily clad woman collecting money. I'm startled to see her innocent blue eyes looking into mine intently.

"Well if it isn't Sookie Stackhouse," she says sweetly, a smile spreading across her face. I realize suddenly this is the woman I'd met at Eric's the previous day. "I'm sure Eric will be thrilled you're here."

I can feel Bill's eyes boring into me and wish instantly the ground beneath me would open up.

Before my wish can be granted, Bill grabs my wrist and pulls me into the dark interior of Glasir.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Sookie's POV**

The interior of the building is dim and I pause just inside the doorway to let my eyes adjust. I realize Bill is still holding my arm and wrench it out of his grasp, shooting a glare in his direction. If he wants to ruin this date with his nastiness, I can ruin it with mine, too. After all, this wasn't a date date. Taking a few more steps inside, I stop and look around.

Glasir consists mostly of one large room, broken up into different sections by strategically placed furniture. A large bar with typical bar stools runs across the entirety of the wall to my right. Based on the number of bottles I can see behind the bar, it looks like they have quite the selection of alcohol. The stock is much more opulent than the limited selection we have in Merlotte's, but then again, this is Shreveport and not Bon Temps. The left side of the room is dominated by booths while the focus of the room is the raised platform in front. I assume the purpose of the platform is a stage, though it looks almost too small for the band occupying it now. In front of the stage is an empty space that is currently filled with couples and groups dancing to the loud music and the remainder of the floor space is filled with tall tables and chairs. I can't help but notice that the entire colour scheme seems to consist of gray and dark red. Though not generally a combination I would prefer, it does kind of work for the area.

After a thorough examination of my surroundings, I glance around surreptitiously for Eric. I can't imagine that it would be hard to find someone as tall and blonde as Eric, even in a dark and crowded room, and find myself relaxing slightly when I don't see him. Maybe this was going to turn out okay after all.

Though I can't spot Eric, I find my eye drawn to another blonde head in the crowd. The woman from the door is making her way through across the room behind the bar at top speed. I have scarcely a moment to wonder where she is going in such a hurry before Bill's hand closes on my arm. I feel him pushing me from behind and can tell he's trying to guide me forward into the room. With a glare at no one in particular, I spin around to face him so quickly I almost trip over my own two feet, and wrench myself from his grasp. I have just about had enough of being pushed and pulled around by a grouchy Bill.

"Would you stop it, please?" I ask, trying to sound normal despite my irritation. There is no reason to make a scene. "I know you're not happy to be here but you don't have to be a jerk about it. I knew this wasn't going to work out. I should have never agreed to come out with you." As I watch, Bill's face goes blank and seems to shut down. His eyes almost lose focus and it seems like he's lost somewhere far away with this thoughts. His posture is suddenly very tense and perfectly straight. Despite the crowd, I feel uneasy and can't shake the feeling that I need to diffuse this situation before . . . something? . . . happens.

"Listen," I say, acting on instinct and moving forward slightly. I reach out to brush my fingers along his shirt sleeve. I can't bring myself to touch his hand. "We came out to have a fun night together. We're already here so we might as well stay. How about if we get a couple of drinks and then go from there?" Bill shakes himself back to the here and now nods at me stiffly. With some effort, he lets his face soften and gives me a tight smile. As I turn to lead the way to the bar, I can't help but notice his eyes still hold that vacant and blank look.

I slide up to the bar, ignoring Bill behind me, and give my order to the unremarkable looking bartender. Bill leans from behind me, intentionally pinning me between his body and the bar to place his order. I refuse to comment despite the pain of the counter cutting into my hip and wait quietly for him to move away. After a long moment, he steps back, staying close but releasing me. His drink is ready first and he takes it from the counter. He appears to suddenly lose interest in me and I watch as he slinks off into the crowd. Since Bill's gone to sulk, I pay for both of our drinks before taking my glass to perch at a table in the corner nearby.

I scan the room for Bill but don't see him anywhere. Where could he have possibly gone? He'd just been here a second ago. Surely he wouldn't have just up and leave me here, would he? Somehow, I was starting to get the idea that maybe he would.

A sudden movement near the stage catches my attention and I turn my eyes in that direction. I can see the crowd in the front of the room separating as a tall blonde man walks through a doorway I hadn't noticed before. Oh great, Eric is here after all. I raise my glass to help obscure my face and sink down in my chair. This night is just getting better and better. I watch as he walks through the crowd and folds his tall frame into a booth near the stage. I only realize once his mouth starts moving that he's not alone. Shifting forward, I can see there are two men in suits on the opposite side of the table. Could he be having some sort of meeting?

After a few minutes of watching, I realize Eric is going to stay in the booth and isn't looking for me after all. I guess maybe the blonde woman didn't tell him I was here. I can't help but feel relieved and resume my search for Bill. I gaze around for a couple more minutes but can't seem to spot him anywhere. That's okay. I am determined to have fun tonight and fun will be had, with or without Bill.

Taking my drink, I slide from my seat at the table and install myself in a seat at the bar. No one will notice me at all if I stay hunched over in the booth in the corner. I cross my legs facing the dance floor and start to scan the room. Surely one of these men will want to dance with me? I vaguely wish I had Amelia or another friend along tonight. It was always more fun if I could just dance with a girlfriend and not have to wait until some promising looking guy comes along.

Fortunately, tonight I don't have to wait too long. Unfortunately, my prospective dance partner is Quinn.

"Sookie. Funny running into you here," he says, not looking like he thinks it's funny at all. I must say, I have to agree with him.

"Quinn," I respond politely, "How are you this evening?"

"Great. Just had a meeting with the owner of this establishment and couldn't help but notice you sitting here. Alone. You're looking awfully pretty tonight." He was meeting with Eric? That was kind of strange. What business could a psychology professor have with a club owner? I didn't have as much time as I would like to wonder at the thought as Quinn seems to be getting over the shock of seeing me. I watch as his eyes roam my body freely. I manage to wipe the look of disgust off my face before his gaze returns to meet mine.

"Thanks," I say, almost forgetting he was waiting for a response. I couldn't get my mind off that meeting.

"Would you like to dance?" he asks suddenly, wiping his hands on his suit jacket. I imagine they are sweaty and actually feel my stomach roll a bit at the thought. I open my mouth to decline when I feel an iron grip high on my thigh. Startled by the intimate location of the touch and the force behind the grasp, I jerk my leg to release myself but the hand doesn't loosen. I look up to see a very scary looking Bill.

"She's not interested in a dance with you," he hisses in Quinn's direction. "She is mine." Quinn's eyes open wide and he glances uncertainly between me and Bill. I know that Bill can be a jerk, but this was seriously over the line. We aren't dating. He can't tell me who I can and can't dance with.

"I most certainly I am not yours, Bill," I snap, sliding off the stool and releasing myself from his grasp. "I can dance with whomever I please." I grab the sleeve of Quinn's jacket and walk around him, turning him from Bill and toward me. I can still see Bill's angry expression and quickly reddening face over Quinn's should but refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I smile sweetly and gaze into Quinn's eyes. "I would love to dance with you,Quinn. Thanks for asking." He looks uncertain for a moment but strips off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as I lead him by the hand out to the dance floor.

I am untalented at many things, but dancing isn't one of them. For his size, Quinn isn't a bad dancer, and I let him lead as I shake my hips and move rhythmically with the music. I manage to get lost in the music and block out all thoughts of Bill as I move, but apparently Quinn doesn't. He stops suddenly in the middle of the floor, hands still at my waist. I look at him in confusion for a moment before spinning around to see Bill storming across the room toward us.

Bill raises his hand and before I can do anything to stop it he punches Quinn square in the mouth. Quinn's head rocks back under the force and I stare at them in horror.

"I told you she is mine," Bill hisses, leaning forward to spit the words directly into Quinn's ear. Apparently the nondescript bartender doubles as a bouncer and I stare with some amazement as he vaults himself over the counter and approaches the three of us. By now, everyone has stopped dancing and all eyes are on our group.

"Hey man," the bartender says amicably, giving Bill a hearty pat on the shoulder, "why don't you just go. We don't want any trouble here." Bill eyes the bartender for a moment before taking a step away from Quinn.

"Fine," he says finally, "We're going." He reaches out to grab for me and I take a step back.

"Oh no we are not," I say with a shake of my head, some of the fear I am feeling inside evident in my voice. "I am not going anywhere with you." Bill looks at me steadily for a moment and I can see malicious intent and venom in his eyes so deeply seeded my heart almost stops. This can't be new. How did I miss this? I can feel my heart start to pound and panic start to seep into me. The realization hits me that this may not end well and I take a tentative step away from Bill.

Quick as lightening, Bill darts forward and grabs my hand, pulling me toward him. I stumble a bit, caught between going forward and stepping back, and feel a sharp pain in my ankle as it twists viciously. I cry out but it doesn't deter Bill who propels me forward unrelentingly. I take a couple more stumbling steps but my sore ankle won't hold and I fall to the ground. Before my knees can even graze the floor, two iron bands circle my torso and stop my descent.

I look up to find I'm in the arms of Eric.

Relief washes through me immediately despite that fact that Eric's face is blank and his eyes look sharp enough to cut diamonds. Bill's hold tightens on my hand to the point of pain. So this is what the rope feels like in tug of war? I banish the thought from my head immediately. This is serious.

"Release her," Eric commands in a low voice, anger and authority evident in his tone.

"She is mine," Bill returns, sounding more like a snake every second.

"Sookie," Eric says calmly, setting me on my good foot but still keeping a tight grip on my waist, "are you his?"

"No," I say succinctly, with a jerk of my head to emphasize my point.

"She says no," Eric says with steel in his voice. "Release her."

Bill increases the pressure of his grip on my hand and I can almost feel the small bones rubbing together before he lets me go.

"You can have the bitch," he snarls, turning from us and taking out his anger by kicking over a chair on his way to the door.

Eric's grip on me relaxes and I immediately slide to the floor at his feet.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Sookie's POV**

Eric bends and scoops me from my place on the floor. He cradles me to his chest for a moment before setting me gently on the closest chair. I glance at the crowd of people surrounding us but am too stunned to care I'm the spectacle for the moment. I can't believe that just happened.

Still in shock, I'm surprised when Eric kneels at my feet and almost gasp as his warm hand closes on my calf. His gentle fingers divest me of my shoe and his hand slides to support my sore ankle.

"Can you move it?" he asks, looking up at me for confirmation. I shake myself back to the here and now and focus on his words. It takes me a moment to figure out what he's after, but once I put it together I point my toe obediently. I'm pleased to see my ankle straighten, but can't hold back the grimace of pain.

"Uh huh," I confirm, blinking my eyes to ward off the tears that had sprung up automatically with the sensation.

"Push down," he orders, flatting his hand against the bottom of my foot. I press down, as ordered and can feel him pressing back into me. This doesn't hurt quite as much as the toe pointing and I manage to keep the pain off my face.

"Good. Can feel this?" he asks, tickling my foot with the tips of his fingers. I meet his eyes and manage a smile.

"Yes."

"I don't think it's broken, but we should probably get some ice on it. Can you walk?"

"I think so," I say uncertainly taking a good look at my foot. It doesn't look too bad, just a little on the swollen side, so I am feeling optimistic. I wiggle my toes gently and am glad that they move without pain. What was Bill doing anyway? Did he really think I would go with him after he'd just punched my professor? But, in all fairness, what had I been doing dancing with my professor in the first place?

"Pam," Eric barks suddenly, startling me from my thoughts and making me jump. He scans the crowd until the blonde woman I am starting to see everywhere materializes in front of us. "See to that man," he commands with a nod to Quinn. "Call the police if he wants to press charges. And take care of the rest of these people."

He turns back to me with a smile, seemingly shutting out the rest of the room, and helps me slide off the chair. I am thrilled to discover that I can stand on my foot and put some weight on it, though it's definitely tender. I step forward cautiously and say a small prayer of thanks that I remain upright. Eric places his hand on my back and takes my right hand in his to help keep me steady. The moral support is great, but the heat I can feel coming off his body through my clothing is more than a little distracting.

The crowd in front of us separates as I start the long trek across the room. Eric seems to be leading me to the door he appeared through earlier in the night. My ankle throbs with every step and I feel like I'm slowing down the closer I get to my destination, but Eric stays with me the entire way, matching his stride to my shaky gait.

The door, it turns out, leads to a small, dark hallway. The passageway is fairly short and gray like the rest of the place. As we step inside and the door closes behind us, I notice there are several doors lining the hall. I don't have a chance to read the placards affixed to them before Eric releases my hand and scoops me up in his arms. I manage to stifle a yelp of surprise.

"Put me down! I can certainly do without the assistance," I say, giving him a scowl. If I'm being honest with myself, I really don't mind him lifting me too much since my ankle is killing me, but it's awfully presumptuous to just pluck me up off the ground and carry me. At least he waited until we were out of the eye line of the crowd.

"I know you can," he says, with a devilish smile, "but what would be the fun in that?"

I wriggle on principle, trying to free myself from his grasp, but he only laughs and holds me tighter. I can feel the corners of my lips turn up despite themselves.

He manages to free a hand and open the only door on the left wall before carrying me into what must be his office. Completely different from the rest of the bar, this room is relaxed and casual, while still maintaining a sense of professionalism. A large desk fills up a good portion of the room, but he did manage to get some other furniture in as well. I'm very pleased to notice there's not a hint of dark gray in sight.

Eric crosses the room in two quick steps and places me gently on a leather couch. I am sorrier than I would like to admit to leave the warmth of his embrace but don't waste any time in propping my sore ankle on the arm rest.

"Stay," he orders abruptly, darting out of the room before I can open my mouth to ask where he is going or why he's giving me dog commands. He's back in less than a minute with a small pouch of ice. With more touching than strictly necessary, he arranges the ice pack on my ankle so it covers the sorest part and lets his hand linger over it to make sure it stays in place. The sting of the ice on my skin isn't wholly unpleasant, and I feel myself relaxing into the leather.

"Okay?" he asks, lowering himself to sit on the floor near me, one long leg out in front of him and the other bent at the knee. I smile and nod my affirmation. "Good, now tell me what happened out there tonight. Who was that guy?" I can feel the smile drop from my face at the thought of Bill.

"That would be my ex-boyfriend. Bill Compton."

"Ex-boyfriend?" he asks, raising his eyebrows with the question. "Since just now or did you just happen to run into him here?"

"Neither," I say on a sigh. "Remember me telling you that Gran left me her house when she passed away? Well someone broke into Gran's sometime in the past week and really tore up the place. Bill was able to call in a favor or two and get it fixed for me for free. Coming out with him tonight was repayment for that favor." My eyes drift to my ankle. Guess the repairs didn't end up being free after all. I flex and point my foot gingerly under the ice and am relieved to find some of the soreness and stiffness receding. I don't know what I would have done with work coming up in the next few days if I hadn't been able to walk on it. I lift my eyes to Eric's and am surprised to see him staring at me intently.

"What do you mean someone tore up your gran's house?" he asks in a voice that's almost forced. I look at him blankly, trying to backtrack through the conversation. I feel like my mind is wandering in a million different directions and I can't manage to put anything together.

"Just what I said, they tore it up. There was damage to the windows and some of the drywall. The jerks even pulled up floor boards in some places." I shift uncomfortably under his gaze and notice that this posture is no longer relaxed. I clear my throat nervously. "Look, Eric, I think I had better get going. It's been a long night tonight, I can barely think straight, and I need to get home and tend to my ankle." I shift forward on the couch, kicking the ice off my ankle as I stand. It definitely still hurts, but it's not as bad as earlier and I'm starting to truly believe it will be okay.

"Wait," Eric says, rising from his place on the floor gracefully and claiming my hand in his. "Let me drive you home. It's not like you live far." He gives me a grin that makes my breath stick in my throat and I command my lungs to breathe in. I know I should turn him down. I really don't live that far away and could probably be home in less than an hour if I walk, sore ankle and all. But what was the point? He could get me there in just minutes.

"Sure," I say finally. "That would be nice." Eric's smile fills the room and I can't help but smile back.

Without warning, the door to his office flies open. The blonde woman called Pam steps into the room and the smiles melt off both of our faces.

Right. He has a girlfriend. How could I have forgotten, even for a moment? I pull my hand from his.

I watch as Pam crosses the room to Eric. She moves very gracefully for someone so young. As she speaks to him quietly, he lowers his head to hers to catch the soft words. His ear is mere inches from lips and I can't help but feel like an intruder to such an intimate moment. Maybe I should just walk home? I take a tentative step toward the door and shoot down the idea immediately. I don't think anything's broken, but I can almost guarantee I won't be able to wait tables this weekend if I walk home tonight. Maybe I should call a cab? I can barely tolerate the cost, but it's probably my best option. With one last quick look at the couple, I slide toward the door quietly. Eric's eyes cut to me just as I'm reaching for the door knob.

"Sookie," he says, eyes flashing with some emotion I can't pick out from across the room. His face remains blank.

"I can't see you guys are busy and don't want to intrude on anything so I'm just going to go," I say, gesturing weakly to the door before opening it. "You have a lot of work here and I can get myself home."

"Don't be ridiculous. Let me finish speaking with Pam and I will drive you."

"No really," I say, stepping through the doorway. "I've been enough trouble tonight and should definitely get going. Thanks for your help, though." With a quick smile I close the door behind me and hobble down the hall toward the main part of the club, trying to ignore the regret at leaving Eric behind in his office. Pushing the feeling to the back of my mind, I force myself to exert some effort to focus my thoughts. All I have to do is track down my phone and make a phone call, then I'll be able to put this whole night behind me. Now where did I leave my purse?

I push open the door to the main part of the club and find myself face to face with Quinn. My eyes widen in horror as I take in the quickly darkening bruise across Quinn's jaw courtesy of Bill. I can feel my cheeks reddening and lower my head hide my face. I'm more than a little ashamed of my performance earlier. Quinn is my professor and a man I have no interest in whatsoever. I should have never used him just to spite Bill. Of course, there was no way I could have predicted how Bill was going to react. But still. If it hadn't been for me, Quinn wouldn't have a sore jaw or a large bruise. If I were him, I would never want to see me again.

"Here's your purse," Quinn says, staring into me with those peculiar eyes and offering my bag. I guess he doesn't feel the same way I would. I scrape up enough energy to give him a smile.

"Thanks, I was just looking for that," I say, grabbing it from his hand. I open the zipper and dig around in the pouch until I locate my cell phone. I pull it out feeling relieved to have it. I call up my contact list before remembering that I need a cab. I definitely don't have Shreveport taxi services programmed in my phone. Glancing around, I'm somewhat surprised to see Quinn still standing next to me.

"You don't happen to have a phone book, do you?" I ask without thinking, only realizing a moment too late it was a stupid question. Why in the world would he be carrying a phone book? Obviously I need to get out of here.

"Sorry babe, fresh out," he says with a laugh, patting his pockets for effect. The reasons I don't care much for Quinn come flooding into my mind and a sharp retort springs to my lips. With more restraint that I thought I had left tonight, I manage to hold it back, choosing instead to turn and walk toward the bar.

"Wait," he says, grabbing my shoulder to stop me. I cringe under his touch but turn to face him. "I'm sorry, that was rude. Who were you trying to call?"

"A taxi service, I guess. Bill and I came here in his car." The corners of his mouth go down at the mention of Bill. I know the feeling.

"Why don't you let me drive you home? It's been a rough night for both of us and I'm sure cheaper than a taxi. I was heading out anyway."

My brain feels like it's short circuiting and I don't to stop to think it through. "Okay," I hear myself say before I consider it.

"Great," Quinn says, stepping to the side and gesturing grandly toward the door. "After you then."

Keeping my thoughts firmly on home and off the impending car ride, I make myself put one foot in front of the other right out the door.

xxx

**Eric's POV**

My eyes follow her progress as she leaves the building with that goon. Fuck. I can't believe she was going to come home with me and Pam burst in to ruin it all. I am going to have to have a talk with her about closed door etiquette.

The car ride would have given me plenty of time to talk with Sookie about Sophie-Anne. Despite my attempts, I haven't been able to pin Sookie down long enough to explain what she heard on that phone call or why she might need to be cautious. She always just walks away from me. Or orders me from her apartment. The car ride would have been perfect. She can't walk away when we are in a moving vehicle.

My mind shifts to the damage at Sookie's gran's house. Could that have been Sophie-Anne? She is definitely crazy and I wouldn't put something like that past her. It's not really her MO to damage homes rather than people, but she may not have been successful in locating Sookie in Shreveport. Had she even had time to find her in Bon Temps? My hands clench at my side almost painfully. I am going to speak with her about this tomorrow no matter what. I will not let Sookie be harmed by this.

I stride back to my office and close the door behind me.

And then there's all this business about this ex-boyfriend of Sookie's, this Bill Compton. He definitely made an ass of himself tonight, and managed to damage Sookie in his ardor. I wonder if he really cares about her. He didn't seem to when he was trying to drag her out the door. If he doesn't care for her, what could it be that he's after?

Making a quick decision, flip open my laptop.

I am going to find out as much as I can about Bill Compton.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Sookie's POV**

The ride home with Quinn is almost painfully awkward, and I am more than glad when I spot the sign for the apartment complex from the main road.

"Turn here," I order, pointing out the window and guiding him through the tangle of streets to the correct building. I am more than glad to be home. Was it only a few hours ago I left here with Bill? Somehow it feels much, much longer.

"Thanks for the ride," I say, unbuckling my seatbelt and grabbing my purse from the seat between us. I shoot a sad smile in his direction. "I'm really sorry about Bill."

"Don't worry about it, babe," he says, reaching up to poke at his bruise. "He really has a punch in him. I wouldn't have guessed it by looking at him." His violet eyes sparkle in the light with his laugh and I can't help but smile back. He really isn't a bad looking guy. I gaze his direction for a few seconds more before giving me head a little shake. He is my professor, and a pushy one at that. It won't do anyone good to be entertaining lusty thoughts about the well-built and very handsome Quinn.

I clear my throat gently. "Well, thanks again," I say as I open the door.

"Just a second," Quinn says, reaching out to cover my closest hand with his. His skin is so warm it almost burns my flesh. I jerk away from him so quickly I nearly topple down from the high vehicle, but still manage to catch the surprised look on his face. "Hold on," he says, busying his hands with turning off the truck and opening his own door. "Let me help you down."

I take just a moment to collect myself as he jumps from the high vehicle, then turn to hang my legs off the seat. I gaze at the pavement below my feet and am somewhat surprised at how much of a drop there is. Quinn had given me a boost in, but I am pretty sure I can drop out on my own, even with one sore ankle. I slide forward on the seat, feeling my skirt inch up my thighs. Much higher and I will be flashing my panties at the whole building! I tug on the hem trying to pull it back in place, but not before Quinn makes it around the vehicle. He pauses for a moment near the bumper with a slack look on his face as I return my hemline to it's proper length. I can almost feel my face turning red under his gaze and wiggle forward in my seat.

My face flames brighter and my breath catches in my throat as his hands close around my waist. He lifts me to the ground as if I weigh nothing. I step quickly from his grasp when my feet touch the ground, being conscious of my sore ankle.

"Thanks," I mumble, taking another step away. With the way I am feeling, I can't be too far away from this man. I shoot Quinn and small smile and turn back to the truck to retrieve my purse. As I turn back toward Quinn, purse in hand, the glint of headlights through the windshield grabs my attention. I freeze where I stand and my breath catches in my throat as my eyes fall on the dark coloured sedan. Would Bill dare come back here after what happened at the club? Tell me no.

I breathe in deeply, ignoring the ache in my lungs, as the sedan drives past my building to the entrance of the complex. I don't know what I would do if Bill was here looking for me.

"Sookie," Quinn says from behind me, startling me. I spin to face him and cry out as I wrench my sore ankle. I barely notice his hand on my arm steadying me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I gasp, gritting my teeth against the pain. Even though the sedan has moved on, I can't stop my heart from pounding. My eyes slide up to Quinn, whose purple eyes are gazing down at me with concern.

"Would you mind walking me in?" I ask, not quite ready to be alone with what could potentially be Bill's sedan roaming the complex. Quinn frowns down at me, the concern in his eyes deepening.

"Is it your ankle?" he asks, releasing my arm and gazing through the darkness toward my feet.

"It's just a little sore," I say, not wanting to admit that I'm more than a little frightened to walk up alone. Bill definitely proved tonight that he wasn't above hurting me, or others, to get what he wants, and the last thing I want to do when walking is uncomfortable is to run into Bill in my own building.

I let Quinn loop an arm around my waist and we head down the walkway to the door.

With Quinn carrying more than half of my weight and keeping the pace slow, I manage to get through the lobby, up the stairs, and down the hall to my apartment with minimal pain and effort. "This is me," I say, as we reach my door. Despite my earlier attractions, I find myself somewhat hesitant for Quinn to know exactly where I live. But he's been different tonight. Not as creepy or pushy as usual. Maybe I should give him more credit than I have in the past. If nothing else, he was pretty cool about Bill socking him.

"Would you like me to walk you in and help you get ready for bed?" he asks, a leer on his face and his desire evident in his voice. I struggle to keep from rolling my eyes. Maybe my first impression of Quinn was correct after all. And he was being so nice, too.

"No thanks," I respond, sliding my key into the lock, "I think I can take it from here."

"Alright, babe," he says, backing away from the door and giving me a tiny wave, "I will call you tomorrow to see how you are."

"Fine," I say on a laugh, watching him walk down the hall.

Despite the brief moment in the parking lot when the thought crossed my mind to the contrary, Quinn is not for me. But maybe, somewhere under that cocky exterior is a good guy? After tonight, I'd almost bet on it.

I slip into my apartment and close the door, locking it behind me. Finally, home sweet home. I slip off my shoes by the door and point my foot gently to test my ankle. Despite a little stiffness from not using it during the ride back, it seems to be doing okay. It's tender, for sure, and may be sore for a few days, but it could have been much worse. I toss my purse into the nearby chair and cross the small living area to the lamp on the table next to the couch. I flip the switch and with a slight click, soft light fills the room. I freeze and can feel the blood leave my extremities as I take in the sight before me.

There, in the middle of Gran's coffee table, is her crystal vase, the one she got as a wedding present from her aunt. And in the vase - one dozen dead, white roses.

Goosebumps break out across my skin and I start shivering involuntarily. Someone's been in my apartment.

I hold as still as possible, forcing myself to listen and sharpening my gaze to take in the room. There doesn't seem to be anything amiss, and I can't hear any movement. Moving as quietly as possible and doing my best to ignore the shivering, I creep across the cold floor in search of an intruder I hope I won't encounter. After a quick search of my bedroom and the small bathroom, I glance through the closets and gaze into the kitchen. As far as I can tell, no one is here now. But how did someone get in to begin with?

I make another sweep of the apartment checking every window and door lock. Everything seems locked and undisturbed. All except that offending bouquet on the coffee table.

Leaving on all of the lights in the apartment, I return to the living room and lower myself onto the couch, glad my legs stayed solid and didn't buckle as they'd wanted to do at first site of the bouquet. Sick fear rolls through me as I examine the flowers. What could this mean? First there were dead roses on my car and now in my apartment. What is going on here?

I jolt in surprise and give a little shriek as my purse starts to ring and vibrate in the chair where I dropped it. Without tearing my eyes from the flowers, feelings as if they might attack me at any moment, I cross the room to my purse and retrieve my phone.

"Hello?" I say into the receiver, surprised as how small my voice sounds.

"Sookie?" says a familiar voice on the other end of the line. I can feel my fingers numb and my shivering increase. Bill.

"What do you want," I spit into the phone, cursing myself for the quiver in my voice. The last thing I want is for him to think he scares me.

"I just want to talk, sweetheart," Bill says in a soothing voice. "Things got a little out of hand tonight and I just wanted to apologize and make sure you were okay."

"Apologize?" I say incredulously. I take my eyes off the flowers and let rage wash over me. "Why would I want to hear you apologize? You hurt me, you hurt Quinn, and we weren't even on a real date. You're such a bully, Bill. I'm sorry I ever agreed to go out with you."

"Sookie, listen to me – "

"No, Bill, you listen to me. I'm done. I don't want to talk to you, don't want to see you, don't want anything to do with you. Take Gran's key to Merlotte's and leave it with Sam. I want you out of my life."

"Darling, if you'd only let me explain. I love you, I can't be without you. You mean everything to me." My eyes squint and my gaze darkens at the calm in his voice. How can he speak calmly after what he put me through tonight, and after what he did to Quinn? I return my gaze to the flowers and feel my anger increase exponentially.

"Screw you, we're over."

"Are you sure you want that, Sookie? I can guarantee you will regret it."

I take pause at the iron edge of his voice and feel a shiver of fear slide down my spine, weakening my resolve. Do I really want to be rid of Bill?

"Yes, I'm sure," I force out before I can let him intimidate me into anything. "Goodbye, Bill." Without waiting for a response, I disconnect the call.

The fight seeps out of me immediately and I lower myself to the couch in tears. I knew we weren't really together, but I thought at least we could be friends. He was so nice at first, and so helpful . . . .

Ten seconds later, the phone rings in my hand.

"What part of we're over don't you understand?" I demand in greeting, not even bothering to hide the tears in my voice. I knew he would call back. I knew he wouldn't leave this alone.

"Sookie, are you okay?" a voice asks on the other end of the line. I sit silently for a moment confused. Wait, who I was I talking to? "Sookie, what's going on?" the voice demands. Suddenly it clicks.

"Eric," I mumble, wiping at my tears. Crap. Why was he calling now of all times?

"Are you okay? What's going on there?"

"I'm fine," I say, my eyes sliding back to the dead roses on my table. I was so not fine, but Eric doesn't need to be bothered with that. "Bill just called. I told him I never want to see him again."

"Good, it needed to be done." I don't have anything to say to that, so I don't bother to say anything. The silence drags on.

"Why did you call, Eric?" I finally ask, breaking the silence after nearly a minute. Why he would call to sit quietly on the phone I couldn't even begin to imagine.

"I just wanted to check to make sure Quinn got you home okay and to see how your ankle was feeling?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is fine." Silence on his end of the line again. Somehow I know he knows I'm lying, but I don't want to get into anything more tonight. "Listen, thanks for calling, but it's been a rough night and I really need to get some sleep."

"Oh, right, sure," he says, seemingly surprised that I don't want to stay on the phone with him listening to him breathe. Maybe Pam likes that kind of thing, but I am not his girlfriend and don't have any strange phone breathing obligations.

"I'll talk to you later."

"I will call you and check in tomorrow," he declares, before hanging up. Well that was a strange way to end a strange day. I slide the phone in my pocket. I don't intend to answer any more calls, but it makes me feel better just to have it close.

Despite the fear, anger, and adrenaline, I feel exhausted and can't stop my eyelids from drooping. But there's one more thing I need to do before I can go to sleep and leave this day behind me. I turn my eyes back to the flowers and feel the tears welling up unbidden. These need to go.

Standing, I move across the room gingerly on an ankle that's getting stiffer every second. I pick up Gran's vase carefully and carry it with me into the kitchen. I hover over the trashcan for a moment. I really should take these out to the dumpster. I don't want the first thing I see in the morning to be dead roses. On the other hand, going to the dumpster would mean not only leaving my apartment, but leaving the entire building. And considering it's the middle of the night and someone seems intent to frighten me at the very least, maybe the trashcan is the best bet for now.

Or maybe the deck would be even better.

With just a moment's hesitation, I cross the kitchen to the sliding glass door.

I peer through the pane of glass for a moment before opening the lock. I didn't see any movement, but I don't want to linger out here by myself. Moving quickly, I pluck the flowers from the vase, ignoring the thorns digging into my flesh, and toss them into a pile in the corner farthest from the door. A crack from the woods startles me and I bolt for the door quicker than a mouse running from a snake. I slam the glass door behind me and slide the lock into place, not feeling relief until I'm out of the kitchen. In the hall, I breathe deeply. The apartment feels less threatening and more normal without those flowers staring me in the face.

I make quick work of rinsing Gran's vase and returning it to it's place under the sink. After one more quick look through my apartment and one more check of the locks, I head to the bedroom, change into my nightgown, and slide between the sheets, my phone gripped tightly in my hand.

Exhausted, physically and mentally, it takes no more than a minute to drop off to sleep.

I have nightmares the whole night.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Sookie's POV**

I close my eyes against the sunlight and flail an arm in the direction of the alarm clock. I need to get some better curtains. Waking up to the sun in my eyes is getting old. The noise abates and I roll over with a groan, pulling the blankets over my head. My eyes are dry, my head is heavy, and my ankle feels broken. All in all, I feel awful. Maybe I should stay in bed a little longer? I usually don't like to linger, and have plenty I can do today, but I don't have class or work so I really don't have to get up right this second.

Convinced, I roll over and let myself drift off to sleep.

xxx

The pounding on the door sends my heart racing and jolts me awake instantly. I spring from the bed, instinctually ready to run, and cry out as I land on my ankle hard.

"Sookie, open the door!" I hear through the pounding on the door and the pounding in my head and force myself to stand still for a second to figure out what's going on. My eyes scan the room quickly for threats but I don't see anything alarming. My eyes light on the alarm clock am I am more than a little surprised to discover I've slept well into the afternoon. I never sleep that late.

"Sookie, dammit, open this door immediately!" Sure. Okay. I'll open the door immediately, Bossy.

"I'm coming," I call, walking as quickly as I can while being cautious of my ankle. I gaze through the peephole before unlocking the door. Eric? What is going on? With only a fleeting thought as to how awful I must look with my tangled hair and nightgown, I throw open the door.

"Eric, what –"

"Are you okay? What happened?" He rushes into the apartment and grips my shoulders tightly, holding me in place. His eyes roam my face as if he's searching for something. I know he's waiting for a response, but my brain is still hazy with sleep and I can't seem to figure out what he wants from me.

"Nothing, I'm fine" I mumble, giving my head a little shake to clear it and closing my eyes to focus myself. Am I supposed to know what he's talking about? I knew I shouldn't have slept in.

I feel a finger under my chin tilting my face upward and open my eyes. His face is blank, but the blue eyes I'm staring into are filled with a tangle of emotion. "Sookie," he says on a breath, lowering his face to mine. Heat shoots through me and as his lips press against mine in a kiss that's fierce and possessive. The heat takes my breath away and I embrace the dizzy, lightheaded feeling that overtakes me. I sway on my feet and his long arms slide around me, pulling me close to steady me. His body is hot against mine and I relax into him.

Until my brain resumes operation and I remember Pam. Crap.

"Stop," I mumble into his mouth, pulling away from the kiss. He just holds me closer and recaptures my lips with his. "Eric, stop it," I say with more force, ducking my head and sliding from his grasp. I stand with my back to him for a second, attempting to erase the feelings caused by that kiss. Among other things, my body temperature is up five degrees and I'm sure I'm blushing all over. I take a deep breath and turn to face him.

I'm surprised to discover his right where I left him, staring at me intently and awaiting my reaction. My first instinct is to be angry that this man keeps kissing me and keeps making me feel this way, but I make the decision to stay calm. After all, he deserves some reward for being a fabulous kisser, even if he's kissing me behind his girlfriend's back. On the other hand, maybe I should choose angry after all.

I clear my throat gently. "Eric, what's going on?" He almost looks relieved that I chose to start with a question rather than the slap I opted for the last time he kissed me.

"I need to talk to you right away," he says with a touch of urgency to his voice. My forehead wrinkles and my lips turn up in a look I know to be skeptical. Is he going to try to tell me about his girlfriend again? Last time I checked, that wasn't that urgent. "Please? It's important and will only take ten minutes. I'll buy you coffee." My skepticism turns to a smirk and he returns the look in a devilish smile. He knows I can't say no to coffee.

"Fine," I relent, reaching a hand up to assess the state of my bedhead. I cringe when I feel the tangles. "But give me a few minutes." I turn without waiting for a response and limp into the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

"How is your ankle?" Eric says through the door, and I give a little jump at hearing his voice so close. Is it creepy that he's standing directly outside the bathroom door or is it just me?

"Not too bad," I say, after a quick assessment for pain while I shed my nightgown for jeans and a tee and gather my hair into a ponytail. "It's kind of stiff. And I really wrenched it hopping out of bed when someone was pounding in my door . . . ."

I can almost hear the frown in his voice. "I'm sorry about that. It really is important, and I figured you'd be up." Yeah, I probably should have been. It's been years since I slept through the morning without having a fever or staying up late into the wee hours. But last night was stressful and sleeping in felt right.

"Don't worry about it. Give me just a few minutes and I'll be ready."

Five minutes later, I exit the bathroom to find Eric sitting on my couch texting at the speed of light.

"I'm ready," I say, slipping my feet into a pair of worn flip flops. He closes his phone with a snap and unfolds himself from the couch with a grace and ease not typical for such a tall man. I can't help but admire the way his muscles move as he stretches himself out.

"Let's go, then. Can you walk down the street to the café on the corner? Or should be drive?"

"Better drive," I say. "Don't want to push it."

"After you then," he says, opening the door and ushering me into the hall.

The walk to the parking area is a silent one. I keep waiting for Eric to start the discussion we just have to have, but he seems more interested in checking his pockets and looking at his phone. What is this about anyway? What is so important he has to pound down my door first thing in the morning? Or first thing in the afternoon, whatever. All this secrecy and urgency can't be about Pam. Maybe he wants to talk about the incident last night in Glasir? Maybe Bill broke something and he expects me to pay? I glance over at him and find him well absorbed in his cell. Well two can play at this game. If he has too many pressing things to do to chat with me on the way to the car, I have too many important things to do too. I wrest my phone from my pocket and gaze down at the small screen with a frown. Eleven missed calls? I must've left my phone on silent after Bill and I left the restaurant last night. As a server myself, I can say that very little is more annoying than a customer who insists on taking a call when you are trying to take their order. I make quick work of turning the sound on then tap the button to get to the call log. Let's see who's been calling me. I scroll through the names on the small screen. Eric, Eric, Bill, Quinn, Eric, Eric, Eric, Eric, Bill, Eric, Eric. Eight calls over the course of a morning? My blood freezes in my veins.

"Eric, what's going on?" I ask, stopping in my tracks, not even trying to hide the tremor in my voice. Whatever is going on is obviously important, and I'm not taking one more step until I get some sort of explanation. "Why do I have eight missed calls from you just this morning?" He turns to look at me for the first time since we left the apartment. He doesn't look happy.

"I told you we need to talk. So let's get going." He reaches toward me and I let him take my hand in his, urging me toward the door. He loads me into his car and we start the short drive down the street, but my mind can't focus on anything but what Eric might need to talk to me about. What is so important that it requires two calls an hour all morning long?

In no time at all I find myself inside the café that I have driven by many times but never entered. For as much as I was noticing, I might as well have not come inside at all.

"Alright, we're here," I say the moment my butt hits the seat, "now tell me what's going on."

"Two coffees, please," Eric says to the waitress who stops by the table, then turns his eyes to me. "I've been trying to talk to you for the last couple of days but you seem to be going out of your way to avoid me. Even when I do manage to pin you down you've either chased me out of your apartment or gone home with another man."

I frown at him from across the table. "Alright, fine, but I'm here now, so get on with it."

He glances up at the waitress as she sets down the coffee and ignores her flirtatious smile. She lingers by the side of the table for a moment with her eyes locked on Eric, as if waiting for him to notice her and admire her feminine wiles. Despite the situation, I feel a momentary surge of pride that his eyes are locked on me. She walks away disappointed and Eric seizes my hands, leaning forward.

"Remember that phone call last week? When I asked you to call to set up a lunch date?" I nod my acknowledgement. Of course I remember. Hearing Pam's voice in the background asking Eric to come to bed with her kind of ruined my hopes of starting a new relationship. "I think you interpreted what you overheard to be me with my girlfriend, but you couldn't be more wrong." I can feel the skeptical look on my face again but do my best to wipe it away. He can't pretend that all those missed calls were because I didn't hear his girlfriend on the phone and I really don't want to tick him off before he gets to the point.

"The woman you heard on the phone was an ex-girlfriend of mine named Sophie-Anne. We dated for a while in college. I broke it off after only a few months but she has never gotten over me." I hold back my snort at the cocky look that ghosts his face. At least I know he doesn't have a self-esteem problem. "Ever since we dated, she pops into my life periodically to insist that we should still be together and to try sabotage my relationships. She figures that if she can't have me, no one else should have me either." The blood runs from my extremities at his words, freezing my fingers and toes. He absently rubs my hands in his, trying to warm them. Please tell me this Sophie-Anne isn't under the impression that Eric and I are a couple.

"Okay. And how does that pertain to me?"

"When you called, Sophie-Anne was in my office at Glasir, trying to convince me she had changed and we should get back together. She overheard us on the phone and decided you were a threat to what she thinks we have. I didn't tell her anything about you, all she had to go on was your name, but she called me this morning and told me she'd discovered where you work and that she's going to do everything in her power to keep us apart." I blink at him blankly. "Sookie, you have to understand, she's done this before and it's never ended well for the woman she's targeting. She enjoys physical violence and has attacked more than one person."

I pull my hands from his grasp and grip my cup of coffee for warmth. I don't really know what to say. The emotions are rolling through me so fast I can't identify where one ends and another begins. I take a sip of my coffee and try to gather myself.

"What does she look like," I blurt suddenly, surprising us both.

"Excuse me?"

"What does Sophie-Anne look like? If I'm going to have to watch for her around every corner I should probably know what to look for."

"She has red hair and is pretty small. Petite, I think they would say. But, Sookie, you don't have to worry. I am going to do everything in my power to protect you."

My eyes snap to his. "I don't need to be protected," I hiss, probably a little more violently than the situation calls for. I lower my voice when I realize I've drawn the attention of an elderly couple at a nearby table. "I don't need to be babysat. I can take care of myself." Though a little part of me would love Eric to be my protector, mostly the part that quivers when it thunderstorms, it's really not feasible to walk around with him up my butt all the time. Plus, there's the whole thing about Pam being his actual girlfriend.

"What about Pam? Why isn't Sophie-Anne concerned with her?"

"Why should she be? Pam was around long before Sophie-Anne and I ever got together." Apparently he can read the confusion on my face. "Sookie, Pam isn't someone I'm dating. We grew up together and she's my business partner, that's it. And Sophie-Anne knows better to mess with Pam. She's a lot tougher than her exterior would lead you to believe. I would bet money on Pam in a fight with Sophie-Anne, even if Soph had a weapon." His face stays sober but a smile lights up his eyes. Well I'm glad he can laugh about this. He's not the one that was just told to watch his back for some psycho stalker ex-girlfriend.

I stand abruptly. "I need to go." I start for the door with tears in my eyes, oblivious to Eric getting to his feet behind me.

What a mess.

Not only do I have to worry about school and work, dead roses being left at random, someone attacking Gran's house, and Bill hassling me, but I also have to worry about Eric's crazy ex tracking me down just because he spoke to me in her vicinity. If I'm going to be hunted down by an ex-girlfriend, I would like to at least be sleeping with the man who's responsible. That thought brings a hysterical bubble of laughter to my lips. Maybe I should go to bed with Eric to make this all worthwhile. At least then I could die satisfied.

The sound of Eric's car starting in the parking lot behind me snaps me to attention and I duck into the makeshift alley between the café and the drycleaner next door. I really need a few minutes to collect myself without Eric breathing down my neck. I take a couple of deep breaths and make an effort to relax. Once I see his flashy red car race down the street back toward the apartment I step back onto the sidewalk and point myself toward home.

Logically, I know that none of this is my fault. I should be blaming Eric, but it's not really his fault, either. He can't help that he's a sexy man and is simply irresistible. I keep my eye roll to a minimum at that thought. What must it be like to be so desirable women were throwing themselves at your feet and willing to literally take out the competition? Somehow, I'm glad I don't have an answer for that question. But I do have other questions I wish I had the answer to. Like how long has Sophie-Anne known where to find me? Could she have been responsible for the damage at Gran's house? Or the roses? And why in the world can't I stop trembling no matter how hard I try? She's just a woman. What can she do to me, really? I know Eric mentioned violence, does she think she can take me in a physical fight? He described her as petite, I'm sure I could take her down. I'm not exactly fat, but no one could describe me as small. Maybe I should start to carry pepper spray?

"Sookie," I hear from behind me and turn to the voice. Crap. I should have known he wouldn't just go back to the apartment. I walk over to where his car sits at the curb. It vaguely crosses my mind that walking isn't as painful as it was this morning, but the thought is dashed from my thoughts when he reaches out for my hand. I think about refusing his touch, but let him take my hand in his. "Please get in the car," he says quietly. I can feel his fingers tighten ever so slightly on mine as he awaits my response. It crosses my mind that he might force me into the vehicle if I decline, but push that thought aside immediately and give a little nod before starting around the car. My ankle may be feeling better, but I'd still prefer not to walk all the way home. He opens his door and is around the car holding open mine before it registers he's moved from his seat. I let him help me into the low seat and close the door carefully before returning to his seat and starting down the street.

I can feel his gaze on me during the drive back to the apartment, but keep my eyes glued to the window and the scenery beyond. I never realized this street had so many nail salons. Too bad I don't have enough money to patronize any of them. After what seems like an eternity, the car rolls to a stop and Eric pulls the parking brake. I spring from my seat immediately and start toward the building. I can hear Eric just two steps behind me, but he doesn't say anything and I don't either. He follows me up the stairs and I can feel him hovering behind me as I unlock my apartment door. I slam it shut and flip the lock without so much as a word to him.

Then I let out a scream.

The pounding on the door behind me starts instantly and I turn to open it, but I can't seem to make my fingers cooperate on the lock.

"I'm okay, it's okay," I call breathlessly through the door, trying to stop the pounding as much as to convince myself. The noise stops and I use one hand to steady the other long enough to turn the lock. As soon as the deadbolt clears the door jamb, the door flies open and Eric fills the room. He looks huge and extremely threatening, and I concede slightly to the overwhelming need to pass out by plopping heavily onto the floor by the door. Eric makes a quick sweep of the apartment before returning to my side.

"Are you okay? What's going on here?" What's going on here indeed? I let my eyes roam the apartment but barely take in what I see. I was hardly gone twenty minutes.

"Sookie. Tell me what's happened." He gives me a little shake and my head bobbles on my neck but I can't seem to get my brain to engage. "Sookie," he says a bit louder, taking my hands in his and rubbing my palms with his thumbs.

Suddenly, everything snaps back into place.

"I'm fine," I say suddenly, pulling from his grip and pushing up from the floor. Nothing is going to be solved if I go to pieces now. I scrub a hand across my face to wipe away the tears that have pooled there and face the room. It takes me a couple moments to tally up the bouquets that are scattered throughout. I think it's time to call the police.

xxx

Two hours later, the police have come and gone and I find myself alone with Eric in a house full of dead roses. The police seem to think that someone was watching the apartment. That makes sense since Eric and I were only gone for twenty minutes. Another possibility had crossed my mind, but I wasn't quite ready to explore that one yet.

"Do you want me to help you clean these up?" Eric asks from behind me after the last of the cops leave the apartment. I take a deep breath before turning to face him.

"No, go on," I respond, forcing a smile onto my face. I'm sure it looks strained and more than a little fake, but it's all I've got in me right now. He gives me a doubtful look and crosses the room to me.

"Alright. If you're sure you'll be okay, I'm going into work. But call me if you need me to come back for anything. And lock the door."

"Fine," I say, opening the door and stepping aside so he can exit. "Have a good evening." I close the door behind him and turn the lock.

Thankfully dead roses don't have much of a smell or I'd be gagging on the scent. The official count by the police was twenty six vases with eight to fourteen flowers each. The total number of flowers is two hundred eight nine. They asked me if that number has any significance to me and I told them truthfully that it doesn't. Not that I can think of, anyway. At least none of Gran's vases were used this time and I am free to throw every single thing away.

I trudge to the kitchen to grab a large trash bag then walk back into the living room. At the site of the roses, tears well up in my eyes, and I don't make an effort to stop them running down my face as I start grabbing vases and filling the bag. Who could be doing this?

My first instinct is Sophie-Anne, especially after my conversation with Eric today. But Eric said she told him she managed to gather her first piece of information about me today, and I'd been finding roses at school and at home since yesterday. Somehow I don't think she would lie about that. I feel like she would want Eric to know just how close to her target she actually is. And according to Eric, Sophie-Anne's passion is physical violence. Knowing that, I'm not sure she's the kind of person with the patience for psychological torture. If not Sophie-Anne, then who?

The next logical suspect is Bill. Bill is definitely has the patience for a slow torture, by why would he do it? I got the first bunch of roses the day of my date with him, long before I the drama in Glasir. Maybe he planned to behave badly and knew I wouldn't put up with it? Somehow I can't imagine he would have that foresight, especially since I've put up with his crap in the past, but I guess anything is possible. Still, he isn't the most likely suspect. Why would he want to scare me and punish me before we were ever broken up? It really doesn't make sense. Even so, I am not willing to count him out completely. Bill is nothing if not a jerk.

Who else could there be? With Amelia in New Orleans and the move to Shreveport, I haven't really had that much contact with anyone enough to tick them off. Except Quinn, right? He's been overly interested in me from day one, but I've always taken that interest as something casual. Creepy and off-putting, of course, but nothing threatening. Maybe I should have been more concerned? What kind of motivation would he have to leave me dead flowers? And how would he know about their connection to Gran? He's a creep, sure, but I don't think this would be him. And anyway, this seems to be more subtle and have more finesse he would be able to pull off. He strikes me as more of a buffoon type than anything.

That only leaves one person. The person I've been avoiding considering all along. Eric. He was the one who pounded down my door and wanted to take me out for coffee. I could have very easily made coffee here in my place, or he could have made it in his, yet he wanted to go out. Could there be more to that than meets the eye? He seems to have some interest in me, or else he wouldn't keep kissing me or have come to my aid in the club. Maybe this is a ploy to drive me into his arms? If so, then why all the stuff about Sophie-Anne? Maybe she is an unplanned part of his scheme. If he knew he had her to scare me with then he might have scrapped the flower idea long go. But that couldn't be right. He came here this morning to take me out to talk about Sophie-Anne. Obviously he knew she was a threat at that time. Why would he have gone ahead with the dead flower thing if he had a psycho ex primed and ready to take it's place?

I am missing something, and can't even begin to imagine what it might be. Something just doesn't add up. And until it does I'm going to have to be extra cautious.

Finally having gathered the last of the flowers, I tie the bag tightly and head for the door, wiping the tears from my cheeks. I need to get these out of here immediately. Before I make it out of the apartment I remember the flowers I tossed onto the deck last night. It'd be best if I got those and threw them out with these others. I don't think I even mentioned to the police that I put last night's flowers on the deck.

I cross through the apartment at a light jog and out onto the deck, but don't see the flowers anywhere. Since my deck is still barren, there isn't any place for them to hide and my search for them is brief. I take a moment to scan Eric's deck and the ground below my own, but don't see anything that resembles a flower. Where could they have gone? I shake off the creepy feeling running through me and dart back into the apartment. Maybe the police took them when they left. Yes, that has to be what happened.

After a quick trip to the dumpster in the back of the building and a call to my landlord to request that my locks be changed as soon as possible, I return to my apartment for a quiet afternoon in.

xxx

I'm disoriented when I open my eyes to the dark and sit up halfway in my chair. I can feel the computer sliding down my legs and grab it just before it hits the floor. I rub my eyes and glance at the clock on the cable box below the TV. 2:19 in the morning. After an evening spent alone doing schoolwork, I must have dozed off in Gran's armchair. I can't even imagine I would be tired after sleeping in so late, but I guess today was a taxing one.

I stretch gently and rise from the chair, setting my computer on the floor quietly. Since I'm already sleeping, I might as well go to bed. I drag myself down the hall and climb between the sheets without changing from the sweats I had donned earlier in the evening. Usually I prefer nightgowns, but not having to strip and expose my warm flesh to the cold means a lot to me right now. My eyes close easily and I can feel myself drifting when I sense movement in the apartment.

My eyes open and I force my body to remain still. After only a moment of looking into the dark, I see a beam of light arc across my wall and stop breathing. A flashlight? Someone is in my apartment.

Through the dark, I can barely make out a figure moving through my door frame into the kitchen beyond. I force myself to breathe in quietly and stamp out the panic racing through me. I'm only going to draw more attention to myself if I panic, and will be less likely to get out of this in one piece.

I keep my eyes trained on the door, watching the light arc through the kitchen and into the hall. There's no way I can make a run for it with the intruder in the kitchen and so close to my bedroom door. Maybe I should hide? That might not be such a good idea. It's pretty obvious I'm here at this time of the night. If I hide they might realize they've been noticed. So what's plan B?

As slowly and deliberately as possible, I reach over to the table next to my bed and grab my cell. He said to call if I need anything, and I definitely think this qualifies.

I lower the phone under my blanket to block out the light before flipping it open and pressing the button to turn off the sound. Scrolling through the address book, it takes just a few seconds to locate Eric's name and pull up the screen to type in a message.

"Sum1 in apt. Cant leave, pls help!" I type quickly before pressing send. I click the phone shut quietly and lay as still as possible, pretending to be asleep.

I just hope he's minding his phone as closely tonight as he was this afternoon. If not, I may be in a lot of trouble.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Eric's POV**

Glasir is pretty busy for a Wednesday night, and I spend most of my time sitting in a booth on the floor. Pam insists that part of the appeal of Glasir is the single sex god that owns the place (her words, not mine), so I try to make myself visible at least some of the time I'm in the bar. Of course, a bar doesn't run itself and I do spend a lot of my time in my office hunched over spreadsheets or order forms. But tonight I find my thoughts won't stay on mundane work. Tonight my thoughts are on Sookie.

I've never had to work so hard to win the favour of a woman before. Usually all it takes is a sultry look and a nod of the head and I have women throwing themselves at my feet, ready to be used any way I see fit. But Sookie is something else completely. Sookie is a challenge. Not only is she a hot blonde I want desperately to fuck, she is also feisty, brave, smart and stubborn, and unassumingly cute. Just the memory of her opening the door in her completely sexless nightgown with her hair all disheveled brings a smile to my lips.

My eyes cut to the dance floor as I see someone moving closer to me and the smile falls from my face. A buxom brunette in barely there spandex stumbles her way over to my table. I can't help but notice that the tight material accents some very unflattering parts of her body.

"Hey, Sexy!" she shouts over the loud music, giving her ass an especially ambitious shake that shifts the spandex into some new nooks and crannies. I try not to cringe.

"Yes?" I respond in a voice that is clearly not interested. She doesn't take the hint and leans forward so far her tits nearly escape her top.

"Hows about you buy me a drink and we can get to know each other better?" she slurs into my ear, in what I can only assume is her sexy voice. I can feel the corners of my mouth pull down. She smells of stale cigarettes, booze, and a cheap perfume bath, and I fight the urge to push her away. I fear any touch from me right now would be taken as an invitation.

"How about you find your friends and go on home," I suggest quietly. I don't want anything to do with this woman, but there's really no need to be an ogre about it if I can help it.

"You want to do me and my friends too, Sexy?" she asks with a giggle, stumbling toward me and sending her spandex rippling. "I'm a good lay, we don't need them."

"You need to leave," I say between clenched teeth. There is only so much restraint I can show in situations like this.

"Come on, baby, you're sexy. You want me to suck your cock?" she asks, extending a hand to stroke the front of my jeans. I reach out lightning-quick and seize her hand in mine before she can touch me. She shrieks in surprise and stumbles back, landing on her butt. She's up on her feet surprisingly quick. "I can't believe you did that you son of a bitch! You just ruined what could have been the best night of your life."

Unable to restrain myself further, I rise from the booth and loom over her.

"The best thing you can do for your night is to get out of here before I do something I regret," I spit into her surprised face, before stalking across the dance floor back to my office. I knew I shouldn't have come in to night. I should have just stayed with Sookie.

Unbidden, the look of terror on her face when she found the flowers in her apartment pops into my head. Though she was scared and in tears, she was still beautiful. Was there anything that woman could do that wouldn't make me want to take her to bed?

With some effort, I push all thoughts of both Sookie and the brunette from my mind as I settle into my desk chair. If I'm going to run a successful business, I can't let a woman distract me from the task at hand. I pull a stack of employment applications toward me and start to thumb through them, making a pile for to interview and a pile for trash. We had a waitress quit last week and still hadn't schedule one interview for her replacement.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I slide it out to view the text, silently thankful for the interruption.

"Would be glad to assist in further investigation. Text info." Ah, perfect.

"William Compton. Bon Temps LA. 5'10", med build. Early to mid 30's," I tap out quickly on the small keyboard. I pause for a moment to see if I can think of anything else about Bill that might be pertinent to include. There is nothing that comes to mind and I hit send before sitting the phone on my desk.

My internet search on Sookie's ex-boyfriend had been surprisingly unsuccessful. I've always been good at researching others, knowledge of business associates having helped substantially over the years, but I wasn't able to find much about the elusive William Compton. So I called in a favour and was enlisting help. I have the greatest desire to know more about the man so hideously interested in Sookie.

My phone clatters against the wood of the desk, drawing my attention. I hit the small envelope to open the text.

"Sum1 in apt. Cant leave, pls help!" What in the . . . . Sookie?

Adrenaline rushes through me as I reread the text before shooting to my feet, sending the desk chair clattering into the floor. I throw open my office door with enough force to put a dent in the wall and stalk through the club with purpose.

"Pam," I bark as I near the front of the room, barely registering the shocked look on her face.

"What is it?" she asks, leaving her post at the door and coming to my side. "You'd better be telling me you're leaving because you're going to scare away the customers acting like this." I barely spare a glance for the room at large but do notice a several sets of wide eyes pointed my direction.

"I am leaving," I confirm. "Keep an eye on things."

"Aye, aye captain," she says with an eye roll and faux salute as fly through the door to my car. We're going to have to have a talk about that sarcasm sometime soon, but now my mind is on getting to Sookie. With singular purpose, I dash through the parking lot, jump into my car, and gun it down the street toward the apartment.

xxx

The lot in front of the building is full of police cars when I bring my Corvette to a stop and slide myself from the low seat. What the fuck? I retrieve my phone from my pocket and look back at Sookie's text. It been just over five minute since it was sent, how did these people get here so quickly?

I push my way through the crowd of nosy neighbors at the door and make my way up the stairs.

"Sookie," I call, walking past her open doorway and peering inside. I can see her sitting on the couch speaking with a young, plain-looking officer with a receding hairline. I run my hand through my own thick locks without thought. At least that's a problem I don't have.

"Eric," she says, bolting to her feet and dashing across the room toward me. For a moment, I am sure she's going to throw herself into my arms and I open them to her in preparation. But a look of reservation crosses her face and she stops just beyond my reach. I let my arms drop to my side.

"What happened? I got your text. How did the police get here so quickly?" She shoots me a glare and crosses her arms over her chest. I can sense a battle ahead and try to remind myself that feisty was one of her good qualities.

"I sent that text thirty minutes ago! So they didn't get here especially fast, mostly just normal speed."

Is she blaming me for not being here in time to be her knight in shining armour? Who the hell texts in a crisis situation anyway?

"Who the hell texts in a crisis situation anyway?" I hear myself say, the words sliding from my mouth as effortlessly as butter slides off a hot knife. Her eyes narrow in my direction and I clamp my teeth around my tongue. Sookie has a knack for making me say things I don't necessarily want to verbalize.

"I do, thank you very much! What was I supposed to do, Eric? There was a person in my kitchen. It wouldn't have been very discreet to give you a call and ask you to save me!" Her cheeks flush with anger and determination, but I can see the fear in her eyes. I decide to try a different tack.

"You're absolutely right," I say gently, and watch some of the fight drain out of her. "You did what you could. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner. What happened? Are you okay?"

"Miss Stackhouse," says the young, balding cop from behind her. She jumps at the interruption and I use her moment of inattention to take a step forward and slide an arm around her waist. "I think we're all done here tonight. Will you give me a call tomorrow if you remember anything else?"

"Yeah, I've got your card."

"Great. Make sure you find someplace to stay tonight and get your landlord to change those locks first thing tomorrow."

My ears perk up. Somewhere to stay? I resist the smile that wants to reveal itself. I think I can take care of that.

"Not to worry," I interrupt, drawing both the officer's and Sookie's eyes to me. "Sookie can stay with me for the rest of the night, and I will personally make sure her locks get changed first thing in the morning."

"Fine," the officer says with a nod and one last look at Sookie. "You two have a great night."

As soon as the door closes behind him, Sookie turns on me.

"It's really great for you to offer, but you don't have to keep me for the night. I'm sure I can find somewhere to stay."

"Not in Shreveport," I remind her, intending to win this argument at all costs. "And what could be easier than staying right next door? I'll let you have the bed, and you can come right back here in the morning to get ready. It couldn't be more convenient." I watch the expressions fly over her face, everything from uncertainty to gratitude present before she finally gives me a smile and a nod. "Wonderful. Get what you need, and meet me next door in five."

I use my five minutes to straighten up the bathroom and to make sure the bed has clean sheets. I plan to relish the idea of Sookie in my bed, and don't want her sleeping with anything unsavory. In no time at all, I hear a knock at the door and usher her into my apartment.

"Would you like something to drink?" I ask from the kitchen and she settles herself onto my couch. "Tea, coffee, Coke, water?"

"Some water would be nice," she says with a yawn. I retrieve a glass and fill it with water from the tap before placing it in her hands and settling into the couch beside her.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" I ask, watching as she takes her first sip. Her tongue sneaks between her lips to lick at an errant drop and a pang of lust goes through me. I force myself to sit casually and wait for her response.

"There isn't much to tell," she says with another yawn. "I fell asleep in the living room and woke up around 2:20. I got into bed but hadn't fallen completely asleep yet when I realized someone was in the apartment."

"How did you know they were there?"

"They had a flashlight. The light from it must have woken me up. I could see it in the kitchen from my bedroom door." She takes a sip of her water before setting the nearly full glass on the coffee table and laying herself out on the couch, closing her eyes. I can't help but notice her breasts straining against her sweatshirt.

"And then you texted me," I prompt, pulling my attention from her body and back to the matter at hand.

She nods in agreement. "Then I texted you." The silence drags on.

"Sookie?" I prompt quietly. She starts gently and her eyes open. "What happened next?"

"You didn't come," she says, closing her eyes. "But then I realized I wasn't alone." Not alone? Who was there with her? A man? I can't stop the stab of jealousy.

"Who was with you?"

"Everyone," she answers weakly, and I can tell she's drifting. "We live in an apartment building surrounded by people. I wasn't about to get attacked in my own home with all those people nearby. I stomped and beat the walls and screamed until he ran away and someone called the cops."

I can't help but smile at her explanation. So simple. Then my face darkens.

"But the intruder could have gone after you. You might have been hurt." No response. "Sookie?" Fast asleep.

I contemplate for a moment whether to leave her on the couch or try to move her to my bed. I won't have any problem lifting her, but it's not likely she'll stay asleep for the trip down the hall to my room. And then there's always the chance that she might smack her head into a doorjamb or something. No, I think the couch will do just fine for tonight, no matter how desperately I wish for her to grace my sheets.

Leaving her for just a moment, I pull a spare blanket from the linen closet in the hall and return to the couch. Sookie looks like an angel asleep and it's all I can do not to reach out and touch her. I unfold the blanket and drape it over her gently before kneeling down next to her.

Things tonight could have been much worse. Some mysterious person had been lurking around her apartment and I was in Glasir being flirted with by a whore. I should have been here with her, should have been nearby to protect her, especially with Sophie-Anne hanging around. One this is for sure, this won't happen again. She's too interesting and too valuable to leave unprotected.

Leaning close to her face, I use a finger to push her hair behind her ear before laying a tiny kiss on her lips.

"I'll make sure you're safe from now on," I whisper, before rising from the floor and heading toward my bed.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Sookie's POV**

I awake to the sound of the waves, and breathe deeply of the salty air. The air is thick, and cloying, and I fear for a moment that I will drown in the oxygen. But my muscles are strong, and my lungs won't give up, and I breathe out, and everything is okay.

I rise from the bed, not bothering to straighten the sheets, and float to the window overlooking the ocean. In the distance the sky is black, but I pay it no mind. It's in the distance, after all. Even so, I should probably get out there before the rain. Parties are no fun in the rain.

A sound familiar to me from childhood catches my ear and I can feel a smile tweaking the corners of my lips as I walk across the room toward it. Nothing sounds so much like home as rain tapping on a tin roof. I throw open the door and stick my head through the opening. "Gran," I call into her living room, frowning as my voice echoes back at me. She said she would be here. Maybe she already went down to the party?

I leave the door open and turn from the empty room, crossing back to the window and squinting toward the shore. There she is. There they all are. Why are they there without me? I am the one giving the party. I take a moment to straighten my hair, and smooth the front of the dress I'm wearing before walking to the window, throwing it wide. I breathe deeply of the fresh sea air, trying not to choke, and step up on the sill.

Wait, shoes.

I drop down to the floor, suddenly realizing it's been hurting my feet, and duck under the cavernous bed in search of footwear. The uneven floorboards hurt my knees and I try not to cry out as I feel them tear at my flesh. My blood flows easily and I can feel my knees sliding in the wetness. It crosses my mind that perhaps I should forget the shoes, but I dismiss the thought immediately. How can I go to the party without shoes?

After searching forever through the caves and tunnels, I stumble upon a pair of shoes with my name on them. Literally. They are strappy sandals of see through plastic with a blue ribbon instead of an ankle strap. And on the sole of each shoe, etched to make a pattern in the sand, is my name – Sookie. Perfect. I slip them on quickly and crawl back out the way I came. Eventually the tunnels and caves give way to uneven wood, and before I know it, I pop my head out from under the bed skirt. I'm surprised to find the room dark and lightening streaking the sky. I wasn't under there that long, was I?

I dash to the window and glance toward the shore. The crowd below is gazing at the sky with upturned faces and I know I don't have long before they leave. I'd better hurry. I run to the bed and grab the corner of a pristine sheet. It seems a shame to ruin it, but I don't have time to waste. With hasty hands, I scrub the sheets over my legs. But no matter how hard I scrub, or how quickly I work, my skin won't come clean of the blood.

Resigned, I gaze toward the window with longing.

A clap of thunder shakes the room and lightening brightens the sky for just an instant. With a shriek of alarm, I move to the window just in time to see everyone leaving the shore. "No, wait," I cry, tears beginning to pool in my eyes. I glance down at myself once and come to a decision. With shaking legs and a shaky breath, I climb up onto the sill. I can't let them leave without me.

I lift my arms from my sides and my dress flaps around me violently in the wind. Rain pelts my face, and stings my chest, and I can't tell whether the rivulets on my cheeks are rainwater or tears. I close my eyes, and rise to my toes poised to jump, but I never get to push off.

My scream pierces the air as an arm snakes around my waist, pulling me inward. I take a step back, trying to land a kick, but a hand captures my foot. With a grunt of exertion and a shout that sounds like a war cry, I'm lifted up and pushed forward to topple from the window head over heels.

The roaring surf drowns out my screams as I fall to the beach below.

xxx

I awake with a gasp, my eyes opening to an unfamiliar darkness. Where am I? My heart races in my chest and I stare toward the ceiling, fighting the feeling of falling and trying to get my bearings. Then I remember. I'm at Eric's.

I bolt upright on the couch, glancing around me. I don't remember going to sleep. Last thing I remember was sitting down and having a glass of water. My eyes light to the coffee table in front of me. The glass is gone. Surely Eric wouldn't have done something stupid like drug the water would he? I give my head a little shake, as if to knock the idea loose and send it flying from my ears. The idea sticks, but I force it to the back of my mind.

Through the light seeping through the blinds from the lamp outside, I can make out what appears to be an entertainment system in the corner. But no matter how much I squint and how hard I look, I can't make out a digital display. Doesn't this man have any electronics? Shouldn't he have a DVR or cable box or something with a clock?

Cocooning myself in the blanket, I slide from the couch, acutely aware of the cold against my feet. After a cursory glance, I pad across the floor, pointing myself toward the kitchen. I'm certain he has a clock on his microwave. In fact, I can see the green glow from the hall and don't even have to walk into the kitchen to check the time. 5:54. Huh. I would have thought it was later.

I drift back into the living room and eye the couch. Part of me wants to climb right back onto the cushions and go to sleep. The other part wants to hightail it out of Eric's apartment before he wakes up. I stand by the coffee table, wavering. On one hand, I could certainly use more sleep. The two hours I managed are definitely not enough and I really don't want to lie down in my own apartment. On the other hand, this is Eric's apartment. As much as I would like to believe his intentions are pure and honourable, I just don't know. He's gorgeous, for sure, but the ones to fear are most always the pretty ones. I stand in place a moment longer, considering. Making my decision, I slide the blanket from my shoulders, fold it up, and place it on the couch. I close the door behind me as I leave the apartment.

The light in the hall is glaring, and offends my drooping eyes. I feel like I'm obvious and vulnerable and resist the urge to smooth my hair. Who's really going to see me at 5:54 in the morning anyway? I fish my key out of my pocket and face my apartment door with dread. It feels pathetic to fear my own home, but I can't stop the churning in the pit of my stomach. After standing the hall for a minute longer than I should, I force steel into my spine and throw open the door. I gaze through the opening. Nothing looks amiss, but that can't stop the tingle of fear.

I step into the living room gingerly and click on the lights. I tiptoe through the room like there are hidden bear traps in the floor, but I am seriously tense and forgive myself instantly. I make a quick sweep of the apartment, peeking around each doorway before clearing the threshold to toss closet doors wide. Once I'm convinced I'm alone and there are no hidden surprises, I head to the bathroom. I'm dying for a shower.

The water warms my skin and relaxes my muscles, but my ears are perked and my mind won't stop. All I can think about is last night.

After texting Eric, I lay in my bed nearly paralyzed by fear. It was all I could do to keep my breathing even and slow as I listened to the sound of someone rifling through the kitchen. Five minutes elapsed before I realized Eric wasn't coming and I was on my own. My first instinct had been to hit the intruder over the head with a baseball bat or a ceramic lamp like they like to do in the movies. Unfortunately, I don't play ball or own lamps of that kind so I went for plan B. Wake up the whole building. That seemed to work well enough.

I exit the shower and make quick work of combing through my tangles and applying lotion. A careless elbow knocks my brush from it's perch on the edge of the sink and sends it clattering to the floor. I jump away in irrational panic and find myself cowering in fear. It takes only a moment to identify the sound and I return the brush to the sink with a shaky hand. Rising from my crouching position, I take in my pale face in the mirror and try to laugh off my reaction. The smile stretches my lips, but the laughter won't come. Instead a sob wrests from my throat, and I slap a hand over my mouth to silence it.

I can't do this. I can't walk around ready to snap, certain that the boogeyman is around every corner, responsible for every sound, and in every doorway. I certainly can't spend the rest of my life cowering in my apartment. Especially considering that if I don't make it to work with some frequency I won't have an apartment to cower in. There has to be something I can do to make myself feel safe and to keep me from panicking every time I drop something.

The first thing I need to do, the thing I'm dying to do, is get out of this apartment, at least temporarily. I'm glad I agreed to work a Thursday shift for Sam. That means I can leave for Bon Temps right after my classes and not have to come back to the apartment until Sunday. That sounds like a good plan to me. I exit the bathroom to pack a bag.

Though my ears are still perked for any errant sound, I can feel a smile tweaking at my lips as I fold up work shirts and shorts. Sure I'll be working hard and will be on my feet of most of the day, but at least I'll be home, and surrounded by people I know. Best yet, I will be able to visit Gran. At the thought of Gran, my hand rises automatically to toy with the familiar shape of her necklace. I'm surprised for a moment to find it's not hanging from my neck, but remember I never put it on after my date with Bill. I cross to my dresser instantly and retrieve it from the top, clasping it around my neck. The weight of the necklace is comforting, and a bit of the tension drifts away as I rub the smooth stone between my fingers. It's strange, but I never realize how much I miss having it with me until I've gone without.

A dog barking outside startles me from my thoughts and I freeze, poised, alert, and recoiled. It's time to get out of here.

I grab clothing from the closet randomly and toss it into the bag. When it's full, I pull the zipper shut.

Thought it's not quite seven, and I don't have anywhere to be till nine, I forego my coffee and leave the apartment, locking the door behind me.

xxx

My last class of the day ends at noon, and I am more than glad to be done for the weekend. Before I can go, though, I require a quick stop at the library, and find myself heading that direction full speed. The sooner I can get on the road to Bon Temps, the better.

As I walk, my hand drifts to the object clipped to my waistband. Though it's not what I had in mind when I'd walked into Wal-Mart, I was more than happy I'd asked the clerk if they had anything for self-defense. I'd been thinking of pepper spray, perhaps a stun gun, maybe a lamp, but she'd done one me one better. An alarm that will shriek with the pull of a string. Of course, it came attached to a pedometer, but that's inconsequential.

My phone rings in my purse, surprising me enough to elicit a jump, but not enough to set off the alarm. I pull it from my bag and glance at the caller ID. Eric. I let out a sigh as I contemplate answering. I'm really not in the mood to talk, but based on previous experience I know that if I don't answer he'll call forty times. Resigned, I plop onto the closest bench.

"Hello, Eric," I say, not able to hide the annoyance in my voice. There is silence on his end of the phone for a moment and I roll my eyes. Not this crap again. I wait another moment.

"Eric Northman, if you have something to say you'd better get to saying it."

"Did you like the flowers, Sookie?" ask an unfamiliar voice from the other end of the line. I freeze to my seat. "I got them just for you. I tried to leave you more last night, but you had to be a bitch and ruin things. Don't you like my presents, Sookie?"

"Who is this," I manage to croak between stiff lips, my eyes scouring the immediate area as I listen to the laugh coming through the receiver.

"It's your future lover, sweetheart," says the voice. It takes me a moment to realize the line's gone dead.

My heart is pounding in my chest so violently I can hear it reverberate in my ears. I lower the phone in slow, jerky movements to look at the display. I said Eric, I'm certain it did. I know that my next call should be to the police, but I hit redial instead.

"Hello?" Eric mumbles after three long rings, clearly just waking up. I disconnect the call and shove the phone deep into my bag. What the hell is going on here?

I start as the phone rings again, but resolutely leave it buried in my purse. I need to call the police, there is no doubt about it, but maybe it would be better to do it in the library? I don't see anything threatening in the immediate area, but I feel so exposed, like I might be within the crosshairs where I sit. Convinced, I rise from my seat and start walking with purpose, hand firmly on my waist band. Couldn't they have had a key fob or something? I feel like an idiot holding her pants up.

The ringing ceases, but then starts again immediately. Dammit. I double my speed.

After what seems like forever, the front of the mammoth building comes into view. I break into a run, heart racing as I near the stone steps.

Then a hand reached from nowhere to grab my arm.

I whirl without thought and bring my knee up, aiming for the groin. I hear a grunt then an ear piercing noise as I raise my fist for a punch. My attacker is tall but I manage to clip him in the chin. I didn't hit hard enough to do much damage so I raise my fist to try again. An arm circles around my waist and I feel myself being lifted and pulled back before I can swing. I kick behind me and nail a shin.

"Whoa, lady, chill out," says the man with his arm wrapped around my waist. My eyes slide up to his face and I cease my thrashing. Make that the kid with his arm wrapped around my waist. I feel a scowl wrinkle my forehead and he releases me, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender and taking a step back. I glance around briefly and notice no less than twenty faces before turning my attention to the noisemaker on my hip. This alarm thing really works. I unclip it from my waistband and reinsert the pin to shut it up, noticing that my fingers are trembling and a little stiff from the punch.

"Jesus, Sookie, what the fuck!" says a familiar voice, and my head snaps to face my attacker. Quinn? His big frame is doubled over on the lawn and a hand covers his jaw. My eyes narrow in his direction. I feel a moment of regret but I don't dare move toward him. What is the world is going on?

"Go on, nothing to see here," he announces to the crowd at large, straightening with some effort and waving a hand. Some of the bystanders don't look convinced but move a discreet distance anyway. I'm glad for their nearness as he closes the distance between us.

"What the hell was that?" he asks through his teeth, stepping in close enough for another punch. With the mood I'm in, I could probably give him one just because. But I let myself soften slightly at the sight of the bruise on his face, still black in the middle, and yellowing around the edges. He did take a punch from Bill, so the least I can do is resist the urge to sock him again. I shove my fists in my pockets, willing my heart to stop pumping the adrenaline through my body.

"You grabbed my arm," I say as mildly as possible, resisting the urge to apologize. "I'm having a rough day."

"I'd say so," he says, rubbing his jaw carefully.

I fight to hold back the apology as it springs to my lips again. For all I know he was the one who made that creepy phone call. "What were you doing?" I ask instead. I sound more accusatory than I intend, but I don't qualify it. Why should I have to?

"Nothing. I just saw you running by and wanted to slow you down. I wanted to see you." The expression on his face tells me exactly what he wanted to see of me and I keep my hands balled in my pockets. I don't think I have to worry about that apology coming unbidden anymore.

My phone rings in my purse, making me jump and sending my heart off at a gallop, and I am reminded of my original purpose for running across campus. I take a step toward the library as if trying to escape the noise, but I force myself to stop where I stand. Enough is enough.

I dig the phone from my purse and have it to my ear by the third ring.

"What do you want?" I snap, stiffening my spine and using the anger. I pointedly ignore the tingle of fear.

"Sookie?" asks Eric's voice from the other end of the line. He sounds confused, sleepy, and cute, and I want to soften. But today has been a practice in emotional control and I'm not weakening now.

"What do you want, Eric?" I repeat, with a little more force. He pauses a long moment, evidently in thought. The silence makes and shudder and I count down from ten, determined to hang up if he doesn't say something soon. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One and three quarters. One and a half.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay." The breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh and takes my fight with it.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." More silence. "Listen, I really have to go. Talk to you later?"

"Sure," he says immediately. Apparently the key to communication is to offer to end it? I can feel myself smirk.

"Alrighty, bye then," I say, and hang up without waiting for a response. If I waited I probably would have been on the phone another five minutes. I turn back to face Quinn.

Though nothing has changed and he's is still standing within punching distance, somehow the tension is gone. I'm wary, sure. Scared, definitely. But I no longer feel like a gun with a hair trigger. What's changed? The time for contemplation isn't now, so I give myself a shake and drop the silent phone into my purse.

"I'm sorry," I say to Quinn suddenly, tilting my face to his and managing a small smile. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

"Nah babe, it's nothing," he says with a returning grin, giving his jaw one last rub. "But you sure do have a punch in you."

I resist the eye roll, opting for a long blink instead, and to turn toward the library. I consciously unfurl my fist and give Quinn a brief wave over my shoulder. I can't help but notice he's looking at me like I'm crazy and give into the eye roll after all.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Sookie's POV **

The drive to Bon Temps seems to take forever, and my fingers grow numb from their ferocious grip on the wheel. I'm in my car and should be safe, but can't shake the feeling that something might jump out at me at any moment. From where, I can't imagine, but my eyes won't stop bouncing back and forth across the highway just the same.

Though I left campus immediately after speaking with police, I am running late and driving much faster than I should be. I'm sure Sam won't fire me over a few minutes, especially given the circumstance, but I'm desperate to be at work and off the road and can't seem to get there fast enough. Of course, if I don't slow down I might never get there at all. I lift my foot from the accelerator and let myself coast to a more normal speed. Clearly I need to relax.

With some effort, I force stiff fingers from to release their grip on the wheel and reach over to click on the radio. Maybe a little music will help with the tension? My fingers ache as I turn the dial looking for something to fit my mood. Though what fits paranoid and frightened, I have no idea. A gospel song catches my ear, one I remember from Sundays in church with Gran, and my hand leaves the knob. I sing along absently with the music, vaguely wishing I could close my eyes and let it take me away, and try to let my mind wander. Of course it wanders back to Eric.

Even though Eric sounded half asleep when I called him earlier, the officer I spoke with wasn't all together convinced that Eric hadn't called me. She'd said it was possible that Eric's phone was cloned somehow, by someone who knows that I know him, but she didn't really seem convinced that that was the case. Apparently that's quite a lot of effort and rather easily traceable, but she said they would look into it as a possibility anyway.

But the question still has to be asked - do I really believe that call came from Eric?

My immediate response is no way, of course I don't, why would Eric want me scared? Even if he had a reason, there's no way he could have been leaving the flowers. He certainly couldn't have left them in my apartment when we went for coffee together, even though we were separated when I walked out. That couldn't have been enough time to run to my apartment and set everything up. Right? Even if it was, he couldn't have left them the night Quinn brought me home from Glasir. I left him in his office with Pam, surely he couldn't have beaten us home. Not unless he flew. But even if he did beat us home, there's no way he could have been on campus the day the first rose was put on my car. Could he have? I give my head a little shake. Nothing about this makes any sense.

If I am forced to be completely and totally honest with myself, deep, deep down I'm not all together sure Eric didn't make that call. There are just too many uncertainties and too many possibilities to count him out completely. I would like to believe the best in him, but something deep inside me doesn't fully trust his intentions.

A shrill noise breaks through my thoughts and I nearly jerk the car from the road as I start in my seat. For a frenzied second I fight to maintain control of the vehicle before reaching over to pick up the phone. My heart is pounding.

"Hello?" I say, answering on the very last ring. I can hear someone speaking on the other end of the line but can't make out what they are saying. I spin the knob to turn down the radio and try again. "Hello?"

"Sookie," says a grim sounding voice right into my ear. "It's Eric." Crap. I resist the urge to hang up immediately. I should have known that the police would be going over there right away.

"Oh hi, Eric," I say as neutrally as possible. No use in stirring things up before they have to be. "What's going on?"

"What's going on?" he asks, barely suppressed rage evident in his tone. "I wish you would tell me what is going on. Care to explain why four uniformed officers just left my apartment?" I would prefer not to, actually. But somehow I get the impression he insists.

"I got a phone call," I say simply, hoping he'll let that be the end of it.

"Delightful, do go on," he says rather sarcastically after a moment of silence. I can feel my face flush in anger as I remove my foot from the accelerator and let myself coast to a stop on the side of the highway. Obviously this conversation is not going to happen the easy way and I would prefer not to be flying down the road while having it, work or no.

"I think I will now that I've been invited," I say sweetly. He's not the only one who can be rude. "Whoever was in my apartment last night called me from your phone."

"I had my phone. I did not call."

"Well someone did." The silence drags on and I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. I'm desperate to put the car in drive and be on my way, there's no way this is the end of it.

"You told them I threatened you," he says after a moment, his voice low and intense.

"I said no such thing," I snap, jerking in my seat as if someone slapped me. Do the police view that call as a threat? I hadn't let myself think about it in those terms. What about . . . . No. I'm not thinking about this now. I turn my attention back to Eric, letting my anger take the place of the fear that seems to have taken up residence within me. This is not my fault, why should I have to deal with a grouchy Eric over it? "Listen, if you don't have anything useful say, I'm going to go."

"Where are you?" he asks suddenly. I can feel my eyebrows rise.

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"Where are you?" he says again, veritably growling into the phone in his anger. My own anger increases another notch and I clench my teeth. Perhaps I didn't enunciate well enough?

"It's none of your business," I repeat slowly and clearly. The silence on the other end of the line is dense and heavy and my own anger crackles in the air in the vehicle. If he's thinks I'm giving in because he's growled at me he's absolutely insane.

When he speaks again his voice is soft, but I can still sense the fury under the surface. "When will you be back?"

"Not till after the weekend." I'm glad for about the five hundredth time it is true.

"Dammit, Sookie. I'll not have you wandering around when someone's issuing threats. I want you here where I can keep an eye on you." I manage to suppress the snort and lower my eyes from their vigilant scan of the highway. I know he thinks Sophie-Anne is responsible to some extent for what's going on, but that doesn't make me accountable to him. I can tell this is going to need to be a delicately worded response.

"I really appreciate that you want to help," I say as gently as possible through my emotions, "but I can't stop living my life to stay under your eye." Also, you yourself might be responsible for all of this mess.

Silence comes through the phone and I sigh, looking at the clock. Every second I waste on this conversation is making me later and later for work. "Eric, I need to – "

"You think it's me, don't you?"

Maybe. "No."

"But you're frightened of me?"

A little. "Of course not."

"Then tell me where you are." The anger flares up in me again, ugly and violent, and I'm done with this conversation.

"Goodbye, Eric," I say, disconnecting the call with a press of my thumb. The phone rings in my hand nearly instantly and I toss it into my purse. I'm not sitting on the phone going around in circles with him. We are going to have to agree to disagree on this particular topic whether he likes it or not.

A knock on my window makes me jump, and yelp escapes me. I nearly lay on the horn but force myself to look out the window first. My eyes fall upon an anonymous looking police officer. I roll down the window just a crack.

"Hi," I say, forcing a smile onto my face as the man's eyes scan the interior of the vehicle.

"Hello, ma'am. Having car trouble?" His gaze finally meets mine and I suddenly realize I'm sitting in the middle of nowhere along the highway. The fear returns in full force and my smile gets a little larger.

"None at all. I just pulled off to make a phone call." As if on cue the phone in my purse starts to ring. I pointedly ignore it, and the officer holds my gaze. Panic gradually rises in me as the sound continues, and I involuntarily scan the vehicle for a weapon. The phone stops ringing.

"Good decision," he says finally with a nod, looking down the road and tugging at the waist of his pants. "I've been hoping they pass the law saying everyone has to go hands free." I nod at him vaguely but can't think of anything to say. He finally realizes I'm silent and studies me briefly before giving me another nod. "Well, you have a good afternoon and drive carefully."

"Thanks," I mumble, rolling up the window with a shaking hand and putting the car into drive. I pull out into traffic and accelerate in the direction of Bon Temps.

Maybe I should get a brick to put in my purse? A makeshift weapon would certainly be better than nothing.

xxx

I arrive at Merlotte's five minutes after the start of my shift and virtually fly into Sam's office to drop my purse into his desk. With an apology to Arlene and a quick update on her tables, I shuffle into the dining room with a pad in my hand, ready to work. Unfortunately, there isn't much work to be had. The evening is slow and I spend more time wiping down tables and filling condiment containers than I would like. But the downtime does give me some time to think. I just don't happen to like where my thoughts take me.

Was that phone call more than a scare tactic? The police seem to think so. All this time I've been thinking that someone wants me running scared, but could there be more to it? What could I have that someone would want to threaten me to get? I have no money, that I know, and I'm sure Gran's house isn't worth all that much. But even if I do have something desirable, why the fear? Why the long build up before whatever is going to happen happens?

The door to the bar opens and my eyes skitter in it's direction. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine. I give head a little shake to clear it and skirt around the counter, wishing for something more substantial. A bar top just doesn't seem enough to stand between myself and Bill. He spots me instantly.

"I need to talk to you," he says, striding past empty tables and reaching out a hand to me. I anticipate his movement and manage to slide my hands off out of sight before he can capture mine in his.

"There's nothing to talk about," I say with a little shake of my head, wiping a water spot off a nearby glass. He drops his hand and I rise my own to wipe down the bar top. I feel jittery and full of energy and can't seem to be still. He's silent for a moment and my eyes rise to his face, almost as if drawn. My lids flutter, confused, at the tears glistening in his eyes. I look at him stupidly.

"Sookie, I love you," he says with feeling, his warm palm cupping my hand. I glance down at our hands, jointed on the bar. How did that happen? "You are beautiful, and kind, and I can't live without you." He raises my hand to lie over his heart and I snap out of my daze when the fabric his shirt grazes my fingertips. I reclaim my hand with a violent jerk. What the heck does he think he's doing? He looks startled for half a second but quickly wipes the emotion on his face. He lays his own hand over his heart.

"My darling, please. I can't stand for you to be upset. I've loved you since the day I met you. I'll never forget that first day I saw you, sitting on the porch swing with your glass of tea." A tiny alarm goes off in my head and a thought niggles at my brain, but I can't seem to bring it forth. I wish Bill would stop talking for just a second so I can focus. "You looked so sad and I could tell you'd been crying. All I wanted to do was take you into my arms and take all your pain away. It'd only been a month, I think, since your gran passed away." A tiny pang goes through me at the mention of Gran and I raise my fingers to stroke her necklace. Bill eyes follow and I can't tell if he's looking at the necklace or my breasts, so I drop my hand and cross my arms protectively. His eyes rise to meet mine.

"You are everything to me, Sookie," he continues, tightening his fingers on his chest as if he's actually going to break through his ribcage and grip at his heart. "You were my world and my love, and I ruined everything with my boorish behavior. Please tell me I can call you mine. Please tell me you forgive me?" I tear escapes his eye and I find my hand rising of it's own accord as if to wipe it away. I stop it's assent once I realize where it's going, and lower it to my side after an awkward moment.

"Oh, Bill," I say on a sigh, stashing the offending hand in a pocket of my apron. Can't risk it going rogue on me again. "I appreciate all of that, I really do, but you know we can't be together. Whatever we might have had is over." His eyes flash in anger but his face is one of sorrow, and I frown at the conflicting emotions. Then the niggling thought explodes and engulfs my mind.

The first day Bill walked out of the woods I wasn't sitting on the porch drinking tea. I was on the ground in the dirt tending to Gran's roses. I blink at him in confusion and take a step back.

"Sookie, please," he says, startling me by jumping forward and grasping my free hand in his. "I need you to be mine. We have to be together." I tug my hand to free it from his grip and he tightens his fingers painfully. Adrenaline shoots through me and my eyes dart around the bar. Should I call out for help? Is this that serious? Nauseating fear rolls my stomach as I turn my alarmed gaze back to the man with my hand in his. Is it Bill? Has it been Bill all along?

His eyes widen as he reads the fear in my face and he drops my hand instantly.

"I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head and stepping away, raising his hands in front of him in surrender. "Sweetheart, please." His voice is pleading and his eyes match is face, but words can't overcome the horror inside me.

"Leave," I command quietly, my voice sounding rough to my ears. The slump in his shoulders tells me he hears me but he doesn't move immediately. I force my feet to hold their position and rub my sore fingers while I wait.

"Okay, I'll go," he says after a lengthy pause. "But I will not stop loving you."

"I guess there is nothing I can do about that." I know I sound callous, but I just can't help myself. I steady myself with hands on the bar as I watch him cross the dining room and walk through the door. I think I need a moment to myself.

Swallowing hard to keep my emotions under control, I raise a hand to catch Holly's eye and nod toward the hall leading to the bathroom. She nods back in understanding and I step away from the counter, hobbling on shaky legs down the hall. I close the bathroom door and lock it with a click. Vaguely sick to my stomach, I rest a hand on either side of the cool sink and let my head hang low. I feel like I'm going to cry, but the tears don't seem to want to fall.

It's Bill, right? It has to be. Bill is the one that's been following me and leaving the roses. Despite what he remembers, I wasn't sitting on the porch swing when we met. A lot of things after Gran's death are a blur, but I remember that very specifically. I was on the ground weeding, my hands in the dirt, my nails ruined, when he stepped out of the woods for the first time. At first I'd thought I was cracking up. Why would a man be coming out of the woods? But Bill introduced himself and we got to talking. And we talked for a good long time about Gran and her roses. He knows how much Gran means to me and how much her roses meant to her. Surely it wouldn't have been hard to get dead roses from a florist. And what about the phone call, could that have been Bill too?

A computer guy by profession, I'm fairly certain he has the knowledge and ability to clone a cell phone. And we were both in Glasir just the other night, which put him in close proximity to both Eric and his phone. Of course, he would have had to find time to slip away and actually gain access to the phone, but I'm sure he could have done that. Wasn't Bill's absence part of the reason I started dancing with Quinn in the first place?

The only thing I'm stuck on is motivation. Why would Bill be doing this? He wants me. He made that perfectly clear just a minute ago. But can't be the answer to the question, can it? Scaring me half to death isn't going to win my heart. What is it he's really after?

I wash my hands in the sink and take a look at myself in the mirror. My face is pale and a little splotchy, but I look relatively normal considering I may have just found the person stalking me. I slide the phone and a business card from my pocket and dial the number for the Shreveport Police.

xxx

The rest of the evening flies by, even though business doesn't pick up. My mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Bill, and before I know it the doors are locked and I'm performing closing duties.

The police in Shreveport told me they would look into Bill as a suspect, but weren't really helpful overall. They suggested that I might stop by the local sheriff's office to fill out paperwork for a protective order, but weren't especially hopeful that I would be able to get something in place immediately since there is no evidence that it's been Bill terrorizing me. I'm glad they're investigating, but what am I supposed to while I wait for the evidence? I had been hoping to stay at Gran's tonight, but don't think I can tolerate being alone there with Bill right across the cemetery. Especially since he never returned Gran's key. He's proven time and time again that he doesn't need a key to get to me, but there's no point in making things easy on him.

I finish prepping my section for my double shift tomorrow and wander on sore feet in the direction of Sam's office.

I guess I can always go back to Shreveport. I really don't have the money to drive back and forth all weekend, but how can I put a price on my own safety? Of course, if I show up at my apartment, I'll have to deal with Eric stomping around next door, ticked that I dared defy him. I can't help but roll my eyes at the thought. Obviously Shreveport is out.

Perhaps I could stay in Bon Temps on someone's couch for the next day or two? I know Tara and JB have a little extra space, maybe I should call and see if they will have me? My hand reaches to retrieve the phone from my pocket but I stop myself. Tara is pregnant and I feel like a target. I will never forgive myself if I bring something nasty to their door.

So what then? I can't just sleep in my car in the parking lot. This is really a job for family. I do retrieve my phone from my pocket then and peer at the little clock. Where might Jason be at 1:58 in the morning? In some girl's bed, no doubt. Still, I scroll through my contact list until I come to his name and hit dial. I am not the least bit surprised to get voicemail. I sigh, walking into Sam's office and scoop my purse from his desk. I guess I will go to Gran's, then. I don't see that I really have much choice.

"Everything alright, Sookie?" Sam asks from his place at his desk, and I jump and drop my purse. Somehow I hadn't seen him there. I paste a smile onto my face and lay a hand over my pounding heart.

"Absolutely, thanks for asking," I say automatically, bending to pick up my purse and looking at Sam as I straighten. The concern I find on his face is so heartfelt my phony smile melts away instantly.

"You're sure?" he asks, slightly leaning forward in his chair and narrowing his eyes at me as if trying to view me more clearly. "You've been awfully distracted tonight."

He's right, of course. I have been incredibly distracted. I gaze at him thoughtfully for a moment, deciding what to share. I guess the more people who know about Bill the better.

"Actually, Sam, I should probably talk to you about something." I slide into the chair in front of his desk and fold my hands in my lap to keep them from fidgeting. "Over the past couple of days someone has been leaving me flowers." He looks confused as to why I might be opposed to receiving flowers and I resist rolling my eyes. "Dead flowers," I elaborate. He still looks confused and I rise from my seat. "Forget it." I'm not going to sit around at 2:00 in the morning waiting for him to understand after the kind of day I've had.

"Sookie, wait," Sam says. I feel a warm hand on my elbow before I reach the door and turn to find myself inches away from Sam. I can feel the heat coming off of him and take a step back. I find myself in the hall. I'm half tempted to turn and walk through the back door without another word, but I can't bring myself to do it. Sam is a good friend, and my boss, and I own him at least a bit of consideration.

"I think Bill is stalking me," I say outright, crossing my arms over my chest. Thinking of it in those terms is one thing and saying it another, and I'm feeling especially vulnerable all of the sudden.

"Stalking?" Sam asks, his surprise evident. He angles his face so his eyes are peering directly into mine. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," I say automatically. But his eyes staring into mine don't tolerate a lie and I try again. "No." Closer, but still not right. "I don't know." Uh huh, better answer. "I mean, he hasn't hurt me or directly threatened me or anything, but I keep receiving flowers."

"Right, dead flowers," he says. I nod at him, averting my eyes. I can't take his gaze anymore. "Sookie, tell me what's been happening." I can feel the tears welling up and blink a couple of times to keep them at bay before looking back at Sam. The concern and support on his face are almost too much for me to bear, and a couple of tears escape. I wipe them away with hasty fingers.

"I've been getting flowers," I begin again, shifting my gaze to Sam's eyebrows so I don't have to look him right in the eye. I've never noticed how well he grooms his eyebrows for a man. "One on my car, but mostly they're in my apartment."

"When you say in your apartment do you mean someone's broken in and left them there?" I nod my head and several more tears shake loose. I wipe them away.

"Usually I come home to find them. One time I wasn't gone more than thirty minutes and they were there when I got back. Last night there was someone in my apartment in the middle of the night. They were there when I woke up." Sam tenses in front of me. I consider telling him about the phone call I got earlier today but decide against it.

"How do you know it's Bill?" Very good question. I was so sure earlier than it was Bill, am I still so certain? He knows about Gran's roses and has the ability to clone a cell. He could have had the opportunity to leave the flowers any of the times they were left. But the question of why won't stop nagging at me. Why would he do something like this?

"It's just a hunch," I respond finally. And if I'm being honest with myself, I know that's really all it is. There is no actual evidence against Bill at this point, but that doesn't stop me from being terrified.

"Tell me you're not staying at your gran's tonight," Sam says somewhat rudely, and I narrow my eyes in his direction.

"Of course I'm staying at Gran's."

"Don't be stupid," he says with a scowl, and my eyebrows shoot up. "Why would you stay right across the cemetery from that maniac? He could do anything."

"Do you think I don't know that?" I snap. "I don't really have another choice. I can't afford to go home to Shreveport and don't have another place to stay in Bon Temps, so unless you're offering to keep me, I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your opinions to yourself." The tears in my eyes have dried under the heat of anger and I wipe the vestiges of moisture from my cheeks. Anger is much easier to deal with than the tears and fear.

"I am offering," Sam says with a regretful shake of his head. "Of course I'm offering. It just came out wrong. You know you can depend on me for anything." I look at him blankly for a moment while the anger drifts away. I couldn't put Tara in harm's way, can I risk Sam? Not without him understanding the risks. I sigh. I feel tired, empty, and incredibly responsible.

"I know, Sam, I know. But I don't think I can stay. As you said, he could do anything. I couldn't take anything happening to you because of me."

"Nothing will happen," he says soothingly. "And if it does, I want to be there to help. Let me help you." I'm used to helping, I'm not used to being helped. But to feel safe when I'm so vulnerable would be absolutely incredible and I'm not sure I can turn him down. I put my mind to it for another moment before smiling a small smile and giving him a tiny nod.

"Okay," I say, "Thank you."

Sam smiles back. "Thank you for agreeing. Let me clear my desk and we'll walk over together." He strolls back into his office and I lean against the wall, taking a deep breath.

For Sam's sake, I hope I'm not making a big mistake.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Sookie's POV**

I bolt upright on the couch, startling myself awake. What was that noise? Is someone trying to break in?

My eyes strain in the darkness, the little bit of light coming through the windows of Sam's trailer not enough for a good look. My hands itch to flick the light switch on the wall across the room but I don't dare get off the couch and make the trek. Everything seems still and quiet, but surely something woke me? I sit stiff and hold my breath, ears perked, listening. The moment is tense and my eyes ache from their efforts. But all I hear is the hum of the air conditioner and the distant bark of a dog. Was it the dog barking that roused me?

I let my breath out in a whoosh and lay back on the couch, looking through the darkness at the ceiling. My heart is pounding away in my chest and I struggle to keep my breathing even. I'm even jumpy in my sleep. How pathetic is that? But my panic decreases the longer I lay still and I force my muscles to relax one by one. Still, no matter how hard I try, I can't keep my eyes from bouncing from shadow to shadow. I'm sure I can see movement in them if I look hard enough.

Finally, after a long few minutes, I roll on my side facing the couch back. I can't scrutinize the shadows if I can't see them. Unfortunately, I can still scrutinize the couch back.

Sam's couch is ancient, and could stand to be replaced. It smells just a bit, though I would never tell Sam that, and there is a tiny hole even with my nose and I can't help but poke my finger into it. Apparently I wasn't the first one to think of poking my finger in the hole as it seems to go quite a distance into the foam that comprises the cushion. I decline to explore the depths and flip onto my other side. Maybe I can scrutinize the rest of the living room?

My eyes return to shadow hopping the second I face the room, and I find my eyes being drawn into the kitchen. The windows in the kitchen are tiny, making the room one gigantic shadow, and I can't see a thing. My heart rate picks up just a bit as I gaze into the darkness, and I force myself to look away.

There is nothing there. There is nothing there. I am at Sam's and I'm perfectly safe.

I crane my neck just a bit to look at the door to Sam's room. It's half open and I can just see the darkness beyond. For a strange moment, I wish I was in there with him. It would be so nice to be in close proximity to someone so willing to take care of me. But of course I was the one who insisted on the couch.

After closing down the bar and walking home across the parking lot, Sam offered to let me sleep in his room while he slept on the couch. I considered his offer very thoroughly. After sleeping the night before on Eric's couch, nothing sounded better than a warm and comfortable bed. But Sam's room is in the back of his trailer. Anyone trying to come in after me would have to go through the living room to get to the bedroom. Which would mean Bill would have to go through Sam if he decided to come after me. And I got the distinct impression that Sam wouldn't let him get to me without a fight. So it was the couch for me, in the middle of the living room, in full view of the shadows.

I was regretting my decision a little more every second.

I lean forward on the couch just a bit, and grab my phone from the little coffee table in front of Sam's couch. Like the couch, the coffee table has seen better days. Of course, I shouldn't be one to judge. All of the furniture I own was once Gran's, and she wasn't even the original owner to most of the pieces.

I feel deep longing at the thought of Gran. It's nearly a physical pain not being able to visit her grave because Bill is right across the cemetery. But I push away the feelings and lock them away in the back of my mind. I have enough to worry about right now, and longing for Gran will only make me feel worse.

Determined to banish Gran from my thoughts, I turn back to face the back of the couch, phone in hand. I don't care if it is . . . 5:12 in the morning. I shouldn't be putting Sam in the position of keeping an employee on his couch at danger to himself. It's not fair to him and certainly doesn't feel right to me. This is a job for family. And whether he likes it or not, Jason Stackhouse is my family.

I scroll through my contact list till I find his name and hit send. Surely he's near his phone now. Even if he's not home, he's likely to have it on him.

I poke at the hole inches from my face while the phone rings in the ear not on Sam's pillow. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four. Great. I guess I can always leave a voicemail. Surely he'll call me back?

The phone clicks in my ear, but I don't get a recording.

"Hello?" says a groggy Jason from the other end of the line. I can hear fabric rustling in the background and know I've woken him.

"Jason? It's Sookie."

"Huh? Sookie? What's wrong? Is everything okay?" I roll my eye a bit at the phone. I do call for more than emergencies. Of course, not usually at five o'clock in the morning. I feel the tiniest twinge of guilt at the time but push it to the back of my mind with the thoughts of Gran. This is an emergency. Somewhat.

"Yeah, everything is fine," I say, trying to sound reassuring while speaking softly. My eyes slide to Sam's door. "I just wanted to know if I could stay with you for a couple of days? I'm working at Merlotte's and can't afford to drive back and forth to Shreveport." He hesitates for just a moment. When he speaks I can tell he's on the cusp of sleep.

"Well, yeah, I guess that would be alright. I probably won't be around anyway. Why aren't you staying at Gran's?" I take pause at the question. Do I tell him the truth? Doesn't he have the right to know what he's getting into, letting me stay at his house? On the other hand, is there really anything to tell? Now that I know it's Bill, surely he wouldn't try anything nasty? Somehow I'm not convinced by that argument. I decide to be judicious and split the difference.

"Bill still has a key to Gran's and I don't feel comfortable staying there until I get the locks change." Close enough.

Jason's end of the line is silent for a moment. Could he have fallen asleep?

"Jason?" I prompt softly, eyeing Sam's door. I don't want to wake him. "Jason!"

"What?" he asks suddenly from his end of the phone. I roll eyes and stifle my laugh. He was definitely sleeping.

"Nothing, I'll let you go. I'll come by after work tonight. Thank you for letting me stay."

"Right, yeah," he mumbles into my ear. "See you."

I end the call with the push of a button and toss my phone back onto Sam's table. It clatters on the wood a little louder than I had hoped, and I cower at bit at the sound. But Sam doesn't stir behind his door, so I turn back to the familiar hole in the back of the couch and away from the shadows filling the corners and running up the walls like moss.

At least Jason is willing to take me in for the weekend. It really does mean a lot that I won't have to rely on the kindness of my boss to stay out of Gran's house and away from Bill.

I roll to my back and give the room one last sweep, straining to see through the darkness, before flopping onto my stomach and burying my face in the pillow. I try to relax and let my thoughts wander, ignoring the urge to look into the shadows.

I'm asleep long before the figure slinks from the kitchen, through the back door, and out into the night.

xxx

My eyes open suddenly to the bright and sunny morning, a great contrast to the images that are so vivid in my mind. I throw an arm over my face to keep the sunlight at bay. The dream felt so real that I can still feel the mist from the night air on my skin, still feel the softness of the grass under my feet, still smell the bacon frying. Wait, bacon?

I drop my arm from my face and slide to sitting on the couch. I am surprised to find Sam in the kitchen, frying pan in hand. My stomach growls at the smell.

"Well hey, Sleepyhead," he says from his place at the stove, setting the pan on the burner and pulling a bowl of eggs from the fridge. "I thought you were going to sleep right up to your shift."

"Wasn't planning on it," I say, reaching for my phone. 9:30 and two missed calls? The call log tells me they are both from Eric. I clear the screen and set the phone back on the table softly. "What's for breakfast?" I rise from my place on the couch and drift into the kitchen, straightening my hair on the way.

"Bacon, eggs, grits, the usual." My heart swells with love for Sam and I can't help but give him a sleepy smile.

"Sam, you didn't have to do all of this. I would have been happy with a cup of coffee."

"Oh this isn't for you," he says with a smile, cracking a couple of eggs into a bowl. "I do this every day." I roll my eyes. Liar.

"Uh huh." I can't keep the sarcasm out of my voice. "How can I help?"

"You don't need to help," he says, scrambling the eggs. "Go get ready while I finish up."

I stand in the middle of the kitchen uncertainly. I know Sam is doing this for my benefit. What man makes himself a full breakfast every day with a business to run? Half of me wants to repay his kindness and be a good guest by pitching in. The other half is dying for a shower. He lifts his eyes from the eggs and catches my uncertainty.

"Go on now," he says, pouring them the eggs into a skillet. "I've got this. You go get ready." I look at him for another moment.

"Are you sure? I would really love to help."

"I'm positive. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Get going." I hesitate for just another second before walking from the kitchen. I realize I'm being a bad guest, but he did insist.

I stop in the living room on the way to the bathroom to fold up my blanket and stack it neatly under my pillow. The very least I can do is leave the living room tidy. I glance around the space for more to tidy up, but the furnishings are minimal and the room is already neat. Maybe I can offer to wash the dishes?

I find the towels in the bathroom right where Sam said they'd be (which of course makes sense since he washed them and put them away) and make quick work of taking a shower and shaving my legs. If the air conditioner was running last night, the day must be a warm one, and I'd love to wear shorts to work. I forego washing my hair, since it takes so long for it to dry, and settle on a good brushing instead. I pull it into a sleek ponytail, which I tighten with practiced fingers, before sliding into my Merlotte's t-shirt and shorts and exiting the bathroom. A glance at the clock tells me I was only twenty minutes.

The smell of food hits me as I exit the bathroom and my stomach growls ravenously. I stop in the living room long enough to dump off my overnight bag and retrieve my phone from the coffee table, clearing another missed call, this one from Bill, before sliding it into my pocket. I swear, that man will never give up.

Sam is waiting for me in the kitchen, food on the table and plates and utensils set out. I can tell the food has been ready for a few minutes, but he hasn't touched a thing. He rises from seat when I step into the kitchen.

"Good shower?" he asks, placing a gentle hand on my back to guide me to the chair in front of the empty plate at the table. Like I couldn't figure that one out myself.

"Yes, quite. Thanks for asking." He nods slightly and motions toward the food.

"Well, dig in!" And dig in I do. With everything going on over the past few days with the flowers and the phone call and Bill, I haven't been eating all that much. I've been worried, and stressed, and have only been able to pick at my food. Apparently the problem has been the food I was eating wasn't Sam's breakfast. I put down a plateful of food and go in for seconds.

Halfway through my second serving of eggs and grits, I notice Sam giving me a strange look from across the table. When he notices me looking, he shakes it off and gives me a smile. Unease ripples through me but I push the feeling aside. I smile back.

"This is delicious, Sam, thank you so much. And I don't just mean breakfast. Thank you for everything." Another strange look ghosts across his face, so quick and fleeting I might have imagined it. My heart starts to beat a little more quickly as he smiles again.

"Not a problem, I was happy to do it. You know, if you need a place to stay tonight I'd be happy to lend you the couch again. Or the bed. I'd be glad to sleep on the couch if you changed your mind."

"Thanks for the offer, but I've already made arrangements to stay with Jason." Which I'm actually glad about right this second. I watch Sam warily as he spoons some eggs into his mouth and give myself a little shake.

Stop it, Sookie, this is Sam you're talking about. Sam. Your boss, and friend for the past forever? Sam who is always happy to help and does everything he can for you? Sam who let you stay on his couch when crazy Bill is out there doing God knows what? Sam who woke up early to make a full breakfast and pass it off as an everyday occurrence? Clearly this whole Bill thing is getting to me. Obviously Sam would never hurt me.

The phone vibrates in my pocket and I jump in my seat. Sam springs up from his, knocking his chair backward.

"Just the phone," I say sheepishly, digging it from my pocket and glancing at the display. It's a Shreveport number, but not Eric for a change. Unless he's calling from the bar. I should probably program that number into my phone. I hesitate for a moment, torn between answering and letting the call go to voicemail.

Against my better judgment, I put the phone to my ear and connect the call.

"Hello?" I say into the receiver, laying my fork down on the table while Sam rights his chair and returns to his seat.

"May I speak to Sookie Stackhouse please?" asks a female voice on the other end of the line. Nope, definitely not Eric.

"This is Sookie." The person on the other end of the line is silent. "Hello?"

"Listen bitch," hisses the voice in my ear. I'm stunned by the change in tone and blink hard. "You stay away from my man. Eric and I are meant to be together, and will be together, even if I have to go through you to make it happen." What the hell?

"Sophie-Anne?" No response. "How did you get this number?" Sam glances at my face before rounding the table to stand close by me. I can tell he's trying to listen to what's being said by the crazy woman on the other end of the line.

"I have my ways," she says vaguely. "I know a lot more about you than you think. Just get out of my way or watch your back." There is a clatter in my ear and I know she's hung up. Well that was different. I lower the phone slowly.

"Sookie, are you okay?" Sam asks from my elbow. I hit redial without answering and raise the phone back to my ear. I know it's unlikely she'll answer the phone, but I have to do something.

"Merryton Inn," says a bored voice on the sixth ring. I click off the phone and lay it on the table. She's staying in a hotel in Shreveport?

"Sookie?" Sam gives me a little nudge and I finally remember he's in the room. I give him a smile.

"It's okay, I'm fine," I say, smiling a little too big and tightening my ponytail as I rise from my seat. The thought of food is suddenly off-putting, and I carry my plate with me over to the sink and turn on the water. The least I can do after Sam made breakfast is wash the dishes. I dump my uneaten food in the trash before placing my plate in the sink. I retrieve the sponge from it's place and start to scrub.

"You don't have to do that," Sam says, coming up next to me and laying a gentle hand on my shoulder. I jump a bit at his touch and he slides his hands into his pockets. "Really. I can take care of this."

"No way," I say, grabbing the bacon pan from it's place on the stove and dropping it into the hot water. "You made breakfast so it's my job to clean up." I keep my eyes on the dishes but can feel his eyes on the back of me. I feel defensive, and ready to fight. I'm dying to tell him to take a picture, it will last longer, but manage to keep my mouth shut. The sound of a truck outside catches both of our attention.

"Delivery truck is here," I say from my place at the sink, eyes on the coffee cup in my hands. Sam stands still for a moment, eyes toward me, before leaving the room without a word. I hear the door click shut behind his as he leaves the trailer to meet the truck delivering to the bar. There are some perks of living right next to your business.

I make quick work of the remainder of the dishes and stack them neatly in Sam's drain rack. I would put the dishes away for him, but I don't really know where they go and don't especially want to go poking through his cabinets to find out. I gather my overnight bag from the living room and make one more quick sweep for clutter before leaving the trailer, making sure the door is closed and locked behind me. I dump my bag in my car, still in it's space in the employee lot. At the last second, I fish my phone from my pocket and drop it into my bag as well. The police have the number to the bar and everyone who might need to find me will know to look for me there. Including Bill, unfortunately.

I step through back door of the bar, past Sam and the truck driver unloading boxes, and walk through to the dining room.

I tighten my ponytail and push all negative thoughts from my mind before setting to work.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

**Sophie-Anne's POV**

My heels clack pleasantly on the tile floor as I cross the motel lobby, suitcase wheels clicking along behind me. I'd packed in a hurry right after he called, and can't help but hope that none of the roaches made their way into my bag. I square my shoulders as if looking tough will scare away the creepy crawlies and step up to the front desk.

"Excuse me," I say, tapping impatiently on the countertop with my key card, trying to catch the attention of the young, acne-ridden desk clerk. I have been waiting days for this call and am not about to be late to my appointment.

"What can I do for you?" he asks, smoothing his greasy hair back with one hand and leering at me across the counter. I raise my eyebrows in his direction. I wonder if he's greasy by nature or if he slopped some goo in his hair in an effort at style. I push the thought from my mind and paste a sweet smile onto my face.

"I'd like to check-out, please," I say, tapping my keycard once more on the counter before pushing it in his direction. He picks it up and gives me another leer before turning to his computer. He punches a few buttons.

"Sophie-Anne LeClerq from New Orleans," he says, tapping rhythmically on his keyboard. "Says you've been staying here for a week. I haven't seen you around." I mumble noncommittally and dig my sunglasses from my purse. Truthfully I haven't been around. I've found better things to do in than hang out a dirty motel. I pull my glasses from the depths of my bag and perch them on my head, digging my car keys out soon after. If things go well today I'll never have to come back here. I don't intend to waste another minute in this place.

"It's a shame that we haven't seen each other around," he continues, fingers slowing on the keys, eyes roaming my body in a way that is more of a violation than a look. "The Rod is something to be experienced." Huh? I look at him blankly for a moment before following his tapping finger down to the laminated name tag pinned to his shirt pocket. Rod. I should've known.

"I think I'll pass," I say, irritation vaguely veiled, slamming my keys on the counter and tapping my fingernails impatiently. If Greasy Rod can't stopped ogling me and get me checked out a little faster, we're going to have a problem.

"Come on, baby," he croons, leaning across the counter toward me, my check-out the last thing on his mind. "Rod can show you a good time."

"Rod had better be getting back to my check-out," I grind out between clenched teeth. Rod is on thin ice.

"Why don't I check us both out and we can go back to my place?" He gives me a smarmy smile and reaches out his hand to mine, just barely grazing my finger with his in caress. Before I can stop myself, I fist my car key and jam into the back of his hand. I smile at his yelp.

"Why don't you finish checking me out, Rod, so I can go be with a real man," I suggest with a wide-eyed innocent look that goes well with my smile. He eyes me for a moment as he rubs his hand, evidently torn between slapping me and keeping his job. I fold my hands neatly on the counter in front of me and watch him with a smile. I can already see a bruise rising up on his pasty flesh.

"Thank you for staying at the Merryton Inn," he says woodenly, handing me a billing summary that evidently printed under the counter.

"Thank you, Rod," I say with another smile. "It was so great to meet you." I can feel his eyes on me the entire way out the door.

The day is sunny and hot, typical for Louisiana, and I nudge my sunglasses off my head and onto my face as I step off the curb and into the parking lot, suitcase bouncing to the pavement behind me. I toss the heavy case into my trunk and slide into the driver's seat, flipping down my visor and smiling at myself in the mirror.

Damn, I'm hot. No wonder Eric and I look so good together.

I dig a tube of lipstick from my purse and paint my mouth red, the deep, sultry red I've been wearing for years. It was the color I was wearing the night Eric told me my lips looked kissable, and I've not worn another colour since.

Eric and I were kids when we met, barely out of college. We were young, beautiful, vivacious, smart, and everything was ours for the taking that summer, the best summer of my life. I was Eric's light then, the one who made him smile, his candle in the darkness. Those were the days before all the games, before all the tests, before things started changing. Those were the days before I had to prove myself. Those were the days before She ruined my life.

I scowl at my reflection in the mirror for a moment before slamming the visor shut and starting the car. I back from my space with barely a glance behind me and shoot into traffic carelessly amid the squeal of tires and horn honks. My foot presses the gas pedal almost to the floor and I've driven nearly four blocks before I realize what I'm doing. What She's making me do. I ease my foot off the gas and continue forward at a more normal speed. But I can't stop Her from invading my thoughts.

We'd been together for three months and four days when he ended our relationship. I hadn't done anything wrong, he said, it was just time for us to go our separate ways. But I knew better. We are suited for each other, we complete each other, our relationship was perfect, there was no reason to end things. It was a week later that She showed up.

He acted like he didn't know I was watching, flaunting Her in front of me like he did. I thought he was trying to hurt me just as I'd somehow hurt him. I followed him everywhere, my heart aching as I watched them laugh, talk, kiss. Only when he took her to bed for the first time did I realize his intention. Only as I slipped through his unlocked door and watched him moving on top of Her did I understand what he needed me to do. I had to prove I was worthy.

I only realize my speed has increased when my car bottoms out on the speed bump at Glasir. Slamming on the brakes, I park behind the club and flip my visor down for another look in my mirror. My lipstick still looks perfect. I practice a smile then a pout before blowing myself a kiss and sliding from the car. It's time to see my Eric.

I wasn't surprised when Eric called. He always calls for me sooner or later, though I was thinking it might have been later this time around. Maybe it was the phone call I'd made to Her that pushed him over the edge? Her name is Sookie this time, and it didn't take much effort to get Her information from my contact at LSU, which was surprising. Usually finding Her is more of a challenge.

I tap on the back door of Glasir and adjust my neckline while I wait. I'm wearing the dress I wore for my third date with Eric, a dinner at a local bistro and sex under the stars, but it doesn't fit as well as it did when I first wore it for him. Still, it is one of Eric's favourites. He told me I was breathtaking when I first wore it.

The door to the club opens and he's close enough to touch. My Eric. I breathe deeply to take in his scent – the smell of soap, a hint of cologne, and him. His own personal musk. I salivate despite myself, and give him my sexy smile.

"Hi, Eric," I say huskily, tilting my chin down just a bit and looking up at him through my lashes. I resist the urge to reach out and touch him. I've learned from experience that restraint is part of the test. I'm not going to fail him this time.

"Sophie-Anne," he says, stepping back from the door and waving me in. "We need to talk." He ushers me down the hall and to his office, opening the door for me like a gentleman.

"I know what this is about," I say, settling onto his leather couch without being invited and crossing my legs, letting the skirt ride high up on my thighs. I can feel his eyes on my hemline but he doesn't comment. Instead, he looks at me skeptically.

"You do? So you're going to admit it?" Admit it? I swallow hard past the knot that's suddenly formed in my throat. That's not a question I was prepared to answer. What is it he wants me to say?

"Admit that I'll love you till the day I die?" I ask sweetly, solemnly, hoping against hope that's the answer he's looking for. His fist clench and my hopes nosedive. I've failed again.

"No," he growls. "Admit that you're threatening Sookie."

"Oh I see. This is about Sookie." I spit her name like I'm spitting nails and rise from the couch to stand face to face with him, close enough to feel the heat coming off of him. I should have known, it's always about Her. I smile viciously, meanly, to cover my hurt. "What about Sookie? Has someone hurt your little whore?"

His hands grip my upper arms like bands and he gives me a shake hard enough to leave me dizzy.

"Don't try me, Sophie-Anne. You stay away from her. You're not just hurting her this time around. This time you're hurting me too." What? Hurting him?

My vision narrows and a ringing starts somewhere nearby, drowning out whatever Eric's trying to say. I can feel my face heat up with rage and grip his arms as my knees go weak. Hurting him? I've done nothing to hurt him. The only way my actions could hurt him is if he's in love with Her. That's it, right? He loves Her?

I scream in fury and dig my nails into his flesh until he releases me. I lurch for his desk and throw first object I lay hands on at him with all my might. I'm disappointed to see the stapler miss him by inches to gouge the wall.

"How can you love her, I've done everything for you!" I shriek, clearing half his desk with a sweep of my arm and throwing a desk lamp his way. The shatter is satisfying, but not as satisfying as blood on his face would be. I round his desk and yank a drawer from it's place, emptying it on the floor and hurling it at him with all my might. It lands harmlessly on his sofa. "I've fought for you all these years, faced test after test, done everything I could to prove myself to you and what do you do? You fall in love with a pawn."

I wrench another drawer from it's spot in his desk and empty it to the floor, smashing it into the wall in my fury. It splinters but doesn't break, and I look at it for just a moment before using both hands and my entire body to throw across the desk at Eric. The wood crashes against his forehead with a sickening thud and his eye roll up in his head before he slumps to the ground. Breathing heavily, I gaze at his prone form over the desk and force myself to drop down into his chair. It takes me a moment to calm down.

Hurting Eric isn't the answer. If She has fooled him into believing he loves Her, that's not his fault. He's my Eric, he's absolutely perfect, and it's clear he's not the problem. She is.

My path suddenly clear ahead of me, I hum quietly to myself as I rifle through the undisturbed drawers of Eric's desk. It's only a moment before I locate what I'm looking for, and I slide the pistol into the pocket of my skirt.

"I'm sorry, baby," I croon, dropping onto the floor next to Eric and brushing his hair back from the cut on his forehead. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so mad, you know? I've followed your rules and played your games for years and it's our time to be together." I press my lips to his, briefly, and can't resist tasting him. It's with some effort that I break out kiss. "I know you're confused right now, but I'll take care of everything, don't worry. I'll take care of Sookie and we can be together forever."

xxx

**Sookie's POV**

"Isn't it about time you took a break?" Sam asks from behind me, startling me just a bit. I turn my attention back to the pitcher I'm filling with beer and glance at him over my shoulder.

"Probably," I admit, setting the pitcher on the counter and wiping it down. "Let me drop this off at table four and I'll go."

"Why don't you let me do that?" Sam asks, taking the pitcher from my hands. "There's someone at seventeen who wants to see you." I turn in place and smile as my eyes meet Tara's across the room. Halfway through my second shift I'm not feeling too chatty, but visiting with Tara might go a long way to lifting my spirits.

"Thanks," I say, giving Sam my first genuine smile in hours. "Let me check my tables then I'll go over for a little chat." After a quick round of the dining room, I plop down in front of Tara, pulling her into a hug.

"It's so good to see you," I say, as I squeeze her as tight as I dare. The sun is setting outside the window at Merlotte's and the dinner crowd is starting to flow in, but I ignore them. I'm well overdue for a break. "You're looking so big, those babies sure are growing!"

"Yes they are," she says, rubbing her hand over her bulge of a stomach with a smile on her face. "It seems like I get a little fatter every day."

"Oh please!" I say, laughing in delight. "A soon to be mommy of twins has the right to be fat. This is your chance to be fat. Take full advantage of the eating for three thing."

"I was thinking about it," she admits with a smile, picking up the laminated menu in front of her and examining the single page with more concentration than necessary. "How are the onion rings today?"

"Sookie," Sam says calls from the bar. I spin in my seat, startled at the tone in his voice. The expression on his face is dark. "Telephone."

A blink at him blankly for a moment. Never in my life has that one word brought on so much dread.

"Excuse me for just a minute," I say to Tara, managing a passable smile. My feet carry me around the bar in no time flat and my hand is shaking as I reach for the receiver.

"This is Sookie," I say softly, clearing my throat in an effort to sound normal.

"Sookie, this is Kevin at the Bon Temps Police Department."

"Hi Kevin," I force through stiff lips.

"Hi. Uh, I want to tell you that there was an arrest made a couple of hours ago regarding your case. Someone from Shreveport will be calling you soon, but you know how the gossip can be around here. I just wanted to make sure you didn't about this from someone else." I can feel my knees weaken and lean against the counter for support. They found out who's been terrorizing me? Who's been leaving me roses and watching me? Who made that phone call? I breathe deeply and force myself to ask the question I'm almost scared to hear the answer to.

"Who is it Kevin? Who was arrested?"

"Bill Compton. They took him in about an hour ago."


End file.
